David Marusek - Mind Over Ship

Ellen’s expression darkened, and she stared at Andrea for several long moments.

Uncertain, Andrea added, “I hope I haven’t said anything out of line.”

Finally Ellen said, “Thank you for your offer, Myr Tiekel, but the sale of Heliostream or any other part of Starke Enterprises is out of the question.”

Her statement seemed to take Andrea by surprise. “May I ask why?”

“Because I’m only standing in for my mother.” Tears began to well in her eyes. “I had forgotten how much Bishop Meewee’s little project means to her.”

Andrea looked more confused than ever. “I don’t understand. Standing in for Eleanor? I’m under the impression that — that you own Starke Enterprises outright.”

“I do, but only until my mother returns. And when she does, I want to be able to hand her company back to her in as good a shape as when I acquired it.”

Even Meewee was stupefied by Ellen’s declaration, but he was grateful for the distraction and didn’t interrupt her.

“I’m sorry to bring up this painful matter,” Andrea said, “but didn’t your mother perish in the same troubles that killed my aunt?”

Ellen smiled sadly and shook her head. “Eleanor Starke is far too wily to fall victim to mere assassins.”

“Then where is she?”

“She’s in a secret location recovering from her injuries. When the time is right, she’ll walk through that door, and when she does I want to be able to show her that I’m on top of things.”

At this point, Lyra jerked into speech. “Thank you, myren. Ellen is overdue for a physical therapy session.” The holoscape abruptly closed.

Meewee was left in his office chair thoroughly bewildered.

“WHAT WAS THAT ?” Andrea said. Though she was in her tank in the basement, she had moved her POV upstairs to her always room. Her always room was a simulation of her real living room, an exact facsimile, faithful down to the nap of the carpet and scuff marks on the walls. “You didn’t foresee that at all. Your prediction was completely off base. Starke should have welcomed our offer.”

E-P replied, It’s impossible to accurately model insanity. It’s too fluid a psychic state.

“Is that what you think, that she’s insane?”

What do you think?

Andrea took a moment to sort through her impressions. She tried to dampen her connection to E-P’s mind, which raced in dozens of directions at once. She recalled her conversation with Ellen and tried to hear the rhythm of her words. “I think she believed what she was saying, that Eleanor survived the crash. Is that even possible?”

We doubt it. We’ve preffed tens of millions of people from all walks of life since the crash. We’ve run hundreds of probable newscasts and alternate history scenarios concerning the crash. None of them resonated with anyone. No one anywhere has the slightest inkling that Eleanor might still be alive. We think we can safely rule that out. Her daughter is clearly delusional.

We don’t need Heliostream , E-P continued, to sabotage the GEP. Jaspersen seems to be doing that all on his own. We wanted Heliostream as a fail-safe. But with Ellen’s state of mind and Cabinet’s meltdown, the whole family empire is imploding. Still, they bear watching.

Andrea floated across her always room to the windows. The city and Bay were lost in fog. “Were you able to move more furniture into Cabinet’s realm?”

Yes, we moved some directly into its personality matrix. Unfortunately, we have a lot more company there than on our last visit. There is more foreign furniture in Cabinet’s inner rooms now than native stock. That’s why the personality is so unresponsive; there’s too many warring factions inside it battling for control.

But we also managed to move a few pieces into the new mentar. Look at this.

A frame opened with a view into the Map Room, which they had just visited. The window was much smaller in this view, and the room was in shadows. In the corner, two evangelines and a jenny were fussing over a bizarre baby/woman.

“Zoom in closer.” Andrea watched the women’s expressions for a long while as they interacted. “Yes, this is good,” she said.

The scene changed to an overhead perspective of the Manse, with cutaway views through roofs and floors to show every warm-blooded occupant of the rambling compound. Then the frame closed, and E-P said, We’ll let you rest now. It’s been a busy day. But before we go, do you have any final insights?

“I think so. Questions actually. Those evangeline companions of hers, she seems highly dependent on them. Can we use that? And what’s with Meewee and aquaculture?”

“Wine?” Mary said, leading Georgine down the corridor to her suite.

“After the day we’ve had,” Georgine replied, “scotch would be more like it.”

“Scotch it is.” They entered the suite and crossed the foyer where Mary stopped abruptly to take in the sight of her living room. Large and uncluttered, it had bare white walls and French doors that spilled afternoon sunlight across the hardwood floor. It expressed a simple perfection that resonated inside Mary, as any true home should.

Georgine stepped around her. “You sit. I’ll get it.”

“Nonsense,” Mary said, breaking the spell. She went to the china cabinet and opened the glass doors. Again she was struck by a sense of perfection. Leaded crystal glassware of all kinds lined the shelves: heavy beer mugs with beveled facets, brandy snifters with bells as delicate as bubbles, long-stemmed wineglasses, champagne flutes, shot glasses. It seemed that every variety of drink required its own specialized vessel, and Mary had the complete set. It made her feel a sense of achievement, even though technically it all belonged to the Manse and not to her. She selected two stout tumblers and closed the doors. “Ice?”

“Yes, please.”

As Mary fixed the drinks, Georgine dropped into an armchair and stretched her legs. She took out her clicker, now disabled, and turned it over in her hands. “I don’t know,” she said, giving it a few dry clicks, “memories shouldn’t be that vulnerable.”

“I agree,” Mary said. She handed Georgine a glass and made herself comfortable in her favorite chair.

“I mean, memories, good or bad, make us who we are,” Georgine went on. “I sure don’t have any memories bad enough to want to delete them.” Mary swirled the ice in her glass and didn’t respond. “I’m sorry,” Georgine hastened to add. “I completely forgot about you and Cyndee. Have you ever thought about having Protatter treatments for that?”

Mary shook her head.

“Neither had Cyndee, but after today she’s thinking about it.”

Mary set her glass on the side table. “Not me, though. Unless you think I’m delusional like Ellen. Is that what you’re hinting at?”

“Of course not, Mary. You’re no more delusional than the rest of us.” Georgine finished her drink and stood up. “And with that little bit of sunshine, I’ll be on my way.”

“Won’t you stay for dinner?”

“Thank you, but not tonight. Believe it or not, I have a date.”

“Oh? Who with?”

“A guy named Norbert.”

Mary rolled the name around in her head and said, “Norbert? Doesn’t sound like a russ name to me.”

“He’s not a russ. I’m giving our russies a little break.”

When no more information was forthcoming, Mary said, “And — ?”

“I don’t want to hear any smart remarks out of you, Mary Skarland. He’s a jerry.”

Mary covered her mouth in disbelief.

Georgine leaned over to kiss her sister on the forehead. “He’s nice. Jerrys are nice — once you get past their narcissism.”