Joan Vinge - The Summer Queen

Making use of the sibyl network and its vast resources of knowledge, the Queen had begun planting the seeds of progress everywhere—and already they were sprouting, like spring grass pushing up through the snow. New resources, new methods of production, new tools and new comforts had already rewarded the hard work of Tiamat’s people. It was only the beginning, but already the promise of what the next century could hold was a more tangible incentive to most people than the Queen’s constant insistence that they would—must—make themselves technologically independent, so that when the offworlders returned Tiamat could meet them as an equal.

The Winters embraced most of her proposals with an enthusiasm that made up for the Summers’ reluctance. Often they were eager to a fault, vying for the opportunity to exploit the mineral rights of their plantations, or have new laboratories and prototype manufactories constructed there. Today they were pressing the Queen for a decision on building a dam and power station north of the city.

“… that it would allow us to progress much faster if we have adequate power for the new factories—” Gaddon Overhill was saying, speaking with staccato urgency, as usual. “And it won’t foul the air or pollute the seas—”

“But a dam will flood lands—mostly Summer lands—that are used for farming and herding,” Dal Windward objected.

Overhill waved a hand dismissively. “Those lands are scarcely fit to support either crops or grazing. Small loss.”

“To you, maybe. Winter!” the Goodventure representative said. “Someone has to provide food for all you fools while you neglect your own plantations, to play with your new inventions.”

“Stick to the sea, then, that you Summers love so much,” Sewa Stormprince answered. ” ‘The Sea will provide,’ as you always like to say. And this won’t pollute it.”

“The Sibyl College has consulted the net on the matter.” The Queen raised her voice to silence them, as she frequently had to do. The Summers resisted rules of order, and the Winters would not let the Summers outshout them. “Danaquil Lu Wayaways will give you its findings.”

“Rubbish and lunacy,” Borah Clearwater muttered, to the room at large.

Danaquil Lu took a deep breath, and a last look at his prepared notes, before he lifted his eyes to the expectant faces of the Council. “The data received in Transfer from the sibyl net indicate that such a project is unfeasible, for a number of reasons—” He pressed on, through suddenly rising protests. “The primary reason we have for recommending against the dam project is that it would, as the Summers claim, render a substantial amount of land unavailable. On top of that, our ability to construct such a dam with complete safety, even with blueprints and material specifications provided by the net, is uncertain at this point in our development. It has to function not only through the relatively mild weather of High Summer, when free-flowing water is plentiful, but also the intense and extended cold of High Winter, when everything is frozen. We don’t have a great margin for error, unlike a lot of worlds—”

“Lady and all the gods,” Overhill interrupted. “How are we ever going to get past ‘this point’ if we don’t take some chances’.”

“The sibyl mind is guiding us.” The Queen cut him off almost sharply; something she would not have had the confidence to do two or three years ago. She had become surer in her leadership as she had grown used to being Queen; and as it became clear to everyone that the sibyl net, which she relied on as faithfully as if it really were the Sea Mother’s voice, was as omniscient as any goddess when it came to what was wisdom or folly for her people. “It has shown us that our world is barely habitable, by the standards of most worlds human beings live on. We must make technological progress if we are ever to have an easier, safer life here. But we still have nearly a century before the Hegemony returns, and the sibyl mind is showing us the straightest. swiftest course to our future. Without its guidance, we would not have achieved a tenth of what we have done so far. We have to trust it, or we’ll end up destroying our world, instead. Therefore, in this matter I support the Summers.”

“Then where will we get a new source of energy for our manufactories?” Overhill demanded.

“If you will let Danaquil Lu Wayaways finish his report,” the Queen said, with faint impatience, “then you will see that there are alternative solutions.” Overhill settled back into his seat, into silence, as she glanced at Danaquil Lu, “An alternative method of generating power has been offered to us,” Danaquil Lu went on, at her nod. “It involves using wind-driven turbines, which can be put up in the fields and on hillsides without spoiling them tor grazing or farming. The wind will provide all the energy we’ll need for the next decade or so, and by then we may be able to construct tide-driven turbines, and take our power directly from the sea. Carbuncle gets its power that way, and its system has worked perfectly for centuries, …”

“You’re talking about windmills?” Abbo Win Graymount said. “I’ve seen one power a pump once or twice, but they could never produce the kind of energy we need to run factories—not if you had half a million of them!”

“You’ve never seen one with this design,” Miroe Ngenet broke in. “I’ve used them on my plantation for years. They’re far more efficient than anything you’ve ever seen.” Graymount shrugged, dubious.

“We will begin developing detailed plans for the wind-power project, and discuss location sites and materials at our next meeting. We may be able to make use of supplies left behind by the offworlders in some of the city warehouses,” the Queen said, looking relieved as the hubbub of discussion faded to murmured speculation among the Winters, grudging silence among the Summers.

Borah Clearwater muttered under his breath as Danaquil Lu settled into a more comfortable position, relieved to be done with his command performance. He was content to let the Queen’s other advisors handle all further topics of discussion and debate. He sat, half-listening, half preoccupied by his own pain, through a seemingly endless litany of old versus new.

Kirard Set, who had sat waiting with serene anticipation all the while Borah Clearwater simmered, spoke up at last, inquiring with subtle confidence whether the Queen had considered the matter of his bid for the latest refining operation, and the right-of-way across the Clearwater lands.

The Queen nodded. “Yes, Elder Wayaways,” she said, shuffling through her sheaf of handwritten notes. “Your site seems ideal for the foundry, especially since its location is so close to the source of iron ore. Your offer to fund the initial construction work is very generous. I don’t see any significant obstacles to granting your request. Does the Clearwater elder have any objection to granting the needed right of way … ‘?” She glanced around the table. Danaquil Lu was not certain that whoever represented the Clearwater clan was even present.

“I have an objection, damn it!” Borah Clearwater loomed up suddenly beside him, glaring at Kirard Set. “It’s my plantation, and by all the gods, 1 won’t have any Wayaways touching so much as a speck of dust on it!” He turned toward the Queen as he spoke, bellowing as if she were halfway across the planet, and not almost next to him. Danaquil Lu covered his ears.

The Queen looked up at him with a mixture of alarm and disbelief. “But all that he requested was an easement—”

“Today! And tomorrow he’ll bribe you into— Get your hands off me!” The lastwas directed toward the two city constables who had come in, at Jerusha PalaThion’s summons, from their post outside the door. They took his arms and led him forcibly out of the room, still protesting loudly.