James Hogan - Entoverse

“Shiban is where the Shapieron is currently berthed,” Hunt replied. “It’s at a place called Geerbaine, just to the west of the city. The place we’re in is Garuth’s Planetary Administration Center. It used to be the governing center for this region of Jevlen. We can’t go any farther without resorting to total simulation, because this is the only part that the Thuriens adapted for VISAR-Jevlen was managed by JEVEX, which had slightly different sensor wiring. But anyhow, welcome to another world. What do you think?”

Gina stared outside again. She rubbed her brow with a knuckle and shook her head, then looked back at Hunt. “No… this still doesn’t make any sense. How can I be seeing Jevlen through VISAR, if I’m not coupled into VISAR?”

The strange smile, which had never quite left Hunt’s face, broadened. “Aren’t you?”

“Well, no… I got up out of the chair and talked to you. I-oh, Vic, stop looking at me like that. Tell me what’s going on.”

And then, just as abruptly as before, she was standing inside the cubicle in the Thurien starship again, with Hunt facing her from the doorway, just as they had been before the transition.

“It’s simple,” Hunt told her. “If VISAR can make us think we’re walking around on Jevlen, it can just as easily make us think we’re standing here in the ship.”

It took a few seconds for the meaning of what he was saying to sink in. “You’re kidding!” Gina breathed incredulously. Hunt shook his head. She ran a finger experimentally down the edge of the door-frame. It felt cool and hard and solid. There was even a burr at one place, where something had scratched it.

“Hold out your hand,” Gina said. Hunt obliged. She ran a finger along one of his and traced it over the palm. It felt warm and fleshy, with each line and wrinkle in the skin clearly discernible. “It’s uncanny,” she whispered.

“Not bad,” Hunt agreed. “What you saw a moment ago is what’s happening in a part of Shiban at this moment. Those people are really there. VISAR is very good at realism.” Hunt pointed at a spot on her arm. “You’ve even got the stain on your sleeve, where you rubbed your elbow in some ash that had fallen on the table when we were in the cafeteria.”

Gina looked at the sleeve of the green sweater she was wearing, and flicked at the gray patch with her other hand. Sure enough, most of it brushed away, leaving a faint smudge, just as real ash on a real sleeve would have done.

Hunt laughed. “There’s an easier way. In this world, you can do anything you want. VISAR, clean the sleeve.” The remaining discoloration vanished, leaving no trace. “Or change the whole thing if you don’t like it. VISAR, how about a red sweater?” Gina’s sweater promptly changed to a rich ruby red.

She gasped. “It’s true! This is all happening inside my head? I’m not really standing here? So aren’t you here, either?”

“Of course not. I’m inside your head, too. So I must be hooked in through another coupler, just as you still are.”

Gina struggled to come to terms with the meaning of it, but in the end faltered and shook her head decisively. “It’s no good. I can’t believe this. Prove it.”

“I can’t. Ask VISAR to.”

“VISAR. Prove it.”

And instantaneously she was back in the recliner, at ease and comfortable, as if she had never gotten up from it.

“Voilà,” VISAR announced, managing to sound quite proud of itself.

As Gina’s confusion subsided, she reminded herself that she never had gotten up. She had been here all the time… or had she? Was she really here now, or was this yet another construct in the maze of mirages that Hunt had led her into? She sat up with a strange feeling of déjà vu-only this time, Hunt wasn’t standing watching from the doorway, and the door was closed. Her sweater was green again; the smudge of gray was back on her elbow. It was all as the real thing should have been, but there was no way of telling. If this was another illusion, she could see no purpose in it. Anyway, it seemed she had no option but to go along. She moistened her handkerchief and cleared the smudge from her sleeve.

“Where’s Vic?” she asked aloud.

“Next door, to the right.”

Gina got up and moved to the door. She opened it, let herself out into the corridor, and peered into the next cubicle. Hunt was in repose in the recliner there, motionless with his eyes closed.

“Happy now?” VISAR asked her.

Okay, it was good enough for her. “Convinced, anyhow,” she conceded.

“Never say I don’t give you your money’s worth.”

Hunt opened his eyes and sat up. “Neat, eh?” he said to Gina. “Just think, you could go anywhere in the Thurien world-system right now if you wanted to. Imagine what that saves them in a year on bus fares.”

“Right now, you only need to worry about getting back to the lounge area,” VISAR said. “The others are there, and they’re asking where you are.”

“Tell them we’re on our way,” Hunt answered.

Twelve hours after leaving Earth, the Vishnu was five hundred million miles past the mean orbit of Uranus.

By the internal clocks of most of the passengers it was the small hours of the morning, and the mess area of the Terran section was quieter than it had been earlier. Gina and the four from UNSA were still up, occupying a couple of tables pulled together, where they had been joined by the schoolteacher from Florida, whose name was Bob, and two of the Disney World marketing executives, Alan and Keith.

“Wasn’t there something about an ancestor of modern horses?” Duncan Watt was saying to Danchekker. “It had stripes, suggesting that striping could be an inherited potential of all horse types. So there really isn’t any such group as zebras at all? They could all be more closely related to the horse lines than to each other.” They were talking about the investigations that Danchekker had conducted on specimens of early mammals from Earth’s late Oligocene period, which had been discovered in the wrecked Ganymean ship found on Ganymede, before the Shapieron’s appearance.

“Mesohippus,” Danchekker supplied. “Yes, indeed-which makes it not as complex a characteristic as one might imagine. Several separate lineages could then have acquired stripes independently, which would make the zebras simply realizations of a developmental path common to all members of genus Equus. It becomes even more interesting when one considers the chromosome counts, where a distinct correlation is seen to occur between…”

Duncan nodded as he sat with his arms wedged across his chest. He looked a little glazed and seemed content to let Danchekker carry on doing the talking.

Across the other table, Bob, the teacher, and the two Disney World executives were into politics.

“Maybe Ganymeans are instinctively what socialist idealists try to turn humans into,” Bob said. “But since it comes naturally to Ganymeans, nobody has to try and make them anything they’re not. So it works.”

“He’s got a point,” Al declared, turning to Keith. “We’re a competitive species-a competitive economic system fits our nature. Whether you like the thought of it or not, we work for what we are gonna get out of it, not the other guy. That’s the way humans are. The only way you can try to change them is through force. And people don’t like that. That’s why all these fancy ideas about molding human nature don’t work. They can’t work.”

Sandy pushed herself back in her seat and yawned. “I’ve just had three hectic days that I think have caught up with me,” she announced. “Sorry, but I’m going to be the first one to break up the party. So I’ll see you people tomorrow, wherever. The other side of Pluto, I guess.”