Jack McDevitt - The Devil's Eye

I'm indebted to David DeGraff of Alfred University, for the concept, and to Walter Cuirle, for technical guidance. To Ginjer Buchanan, for editorial assistance. To Ralph Vicinanza, for his continuing support. And, as always, to Maureen McDevitt, for major contributions.

SALUD AFAR

Edward Demery was alone the night it happened. He was sitting in his living room, half-dozing, while the HV ran images from the Sabel asteroid, which was way the hell out in the middle of nowhere. A dozen people in pressure suits stood around a monument on an airless plain while one of them went on about God and how future generations would always come to this spot, and be dazzled by this monument, and remember what their obligations were to the Almighty. The speaker was a woman, but he couldn't tell which of the twelve was doing the oration. "-And maybe, when they come," she said, "they will remember us, too." Applause doesn't work well in pressure suits. So they all simply raised their fists over their helmets. Demery got up and went to the window. Lightning blossomed in the distant sky. Salud Afar was on the edge of the galaxy. Was, in fact, twenty thousand light-years out from the rim. On a clear night, you could see the glow that marked the frontier of the Milky Way. At the moment, though, the glow was still below the horizon.

"- I want to thank Vasho Colunis, for his determination to see this project through-"

He gazed out at the only star in the sky. Callistra. Its soft azure light softened the night, inspired poets, illuminated weddings. And it sometimes appealed to those with a religious sensibility. Like the men and women mounting their monument on that distant asteroid. It was thirty-six light-years out, part of a sea of rocks, drifting through the night, belonging to no particular system. In time, they'd drift back into the galaxy. Tonight, Callistra was performing as a religious symbol. The asteroid on which the Family of God was mounting its monument had been chosen because it lay directly between the world and the great blue star. The monument consisted of a crystal polyhedron atop a sphere, the whole mounted on a block. The polyhedron represented the many faces of mankind; the spherical base, the unflinching support of God.

"- And Jara Capis, who conceived the motif-"

Actually there was a second light in the sky. That was the planet Naramitsu, low on the horizon. But it was easy to overlook. "-Last but not least, Kira Macara, who designed the monument." One of the figures took a bow. The others raised fists in approval. Demery lived in a house overlooking the sea. It was a beautiful spectacle this time of year, with summer lightning in the west and the single star overhead. The settlers who'd first come to Salud Afar, thousands of years earlier, had undoubtedly possessed a love for the outpost it had been in those days. This was where you came if you liked to be alone. It was a place that was not only remote, but which nightly reminded them how far they'd come from the crowded spaces of the Confederacy.

"- Ask the Reverend Garik to give the blessing."

He'd been born under the opulent skies of Rimway. There, inside the galaxy, the stars somehow detracted from each other. When they were, as someone once said, like the campfires of an ancient army, you didn't notice any in particular. They were simply there . "In this sublime moment, let us bow our heads before the Universal God-" The voice was still feminine, but it was less compelling. It had the ritual singsong lilt that preachers seemed always to acquire. "-Let us acknowledge-" He was still looking out at the sea and the sky when the voice stopped. And he became aware that the

light from the HV had changed. Had gone out. He turned and saw only a flickering gray luminescence in the center of the room. Then a man appeared, in the business dress of an anchor. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "we seem to have lost the signal at its source. We are trying to reacquire it now and will finish the broadcast as soon as we are able. Meantime, we will be joining a concert from the Bayliss Room in Old Marinopolis."

Soft music filled the room. A voice told him he was listening to the "gilded strains" of the Frontrunners. He was looking across a dance floor at five musicians on a stage. They were playing something he remembered from his youth. "My Time with You." Yes, that was it. He sat down again. The Frontrunners played through, finished, and started something else. The volume went down. Vanished. A voice informed him they were still trying to reestablish contact with the Sabel Monument ceremony. And reassured him it would be back shortly. Eventually, he shut it down and switched to a book.

THIRTY-THREE YEARS LATER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN, OFF THE AFRICAN COAST

Atlantis, despite all the hoopla, was no big deal. I mean, how could it be after twelve thousand years at the bottom of the sea? Alex and I looked out the cabin windows at the ruins, which weren't much more than mounds in the quiet, clear water. You could still pick out a wall here and there. Not much else. There'd been periodic talk of restoration over the centuries, but the prevailing opinion had always been that if you restored it, it would no longer be Atlantis. Navigation lamps came on as we moved across the seascape. Fish and eels, drawn by the lights, peered in at us. Overhead, a tourist boat was descending. None of us had ever been there. Alex gazed thoughtfully out at the remnants of the fabled civilization, and I knew exactly what he was thinking: how the place had looked in the sunlight, when children played in the courtyards, and trees shaded the walkways. I knew also that he'd have liked to take a few pieces of it home. The captain's voice came over the intercom, pointing out this or that pile of rubble. "Now passing the Temple of Akiva, ladies and gentlemen." "The structure just ahead is believed to have been the main library." "On your left, just beyond that large mound-"

He wasn't happy playing escort to two Mute passengers, but I had to concede he had taken it well. His discomfort did not show in his voice. And okay, I'll confess I wasn't exactly relaxed either. One of the Mutes was Selotta, who was the director at the Museum of Alien Life-forms on Borkarat, one of the principal Mute worlds. She was accompanied by her mate, Kassel (emphasis on the second syllable). She'd bailed me out during my trip into the Assemblage the year before. We'd promised each other we'd get together, Selotta explained she'd always wanted to visit Earth, so there we were. During the two weeks we'd been together, I'd been happy to discover I was less horrified by their appearance than had been the case when I made my first foray into Ashiyyurean society. It's going overboard to say they resemble giant mantises, but they are extremely tall, and their flesh has a husklike quality. It's leathery. Old leather. Leather that's been oiled a bit too much. Their faces are vaguely humanoid, with arched diamond eyes. They have to struggle to produce anything resembling a human smile. And, of course, a forced smile never works anyhow, especially when it's disrupted by canines. If you've ever seen one up close, you already know that the effect they have on people, scaring the daylights out of them, isn't produced by their appearance so much as by the fact that human minds lie open to them. No secret is safe when a Mute's in the room. I hadn't met Kassel on my journey to Borkarat. In fact, my time with Selotta had been only a few minutes. But if such a thing was possible with a Mute, it seemed we had bonded. And Alex, always anxious for a new experience, especially one that would take him to the mother world, came along. We'd started from the Washington, D.C., site, and embarked on a round-the-world tour. We'd gone first to the world capital at Corysel. Then across the Pacific to Micronesia. It was Selotta, with her interest in archeology, who suggested Atlantis. I'd been reluctant, at first. For one thing, they'd had to install special seats on the diver. But, Alex said, intending it as a joke, why visit Earth if you're not going to stop off at Atlantis?