John Wright - The Golden Age

Small payments to the Tritonic Neuroform Composition were recorded, along with inspection receipts. Phaethon had been buying large packages of information from the Neptu-nians. And, unlike every other merchant venture in the Golden Oecumene, goods from the Neptunians had to be inspected for hidden flaws, gimmicks, and pranks.

There were also moderate payments to one of the Cere-belline Life-Mother houses, a daughter of Wheel-of-Life named the Maiden; a very large number of extrapolations, ecological formulae, and bioengineering routines, equipment, and expertise had been purchased.

And biological material. Phaethon had bought so many metric tons of viral and recombinant bodies that the number was beyond belief. It was enough material to wipe out the biosphere of Earth and replace it with new forms. Had Phaethon been gathering an army? Was his black-and-gold armor actually "armor" in the old sense of the word, like the re-

sponders of ancient Warlocks, a system to deflect enemy weapons? The idea was insane.

There were also legal and advisory fees, in large amounts. For smaller matters, Phaethon got his legal advice from the Rhadamanthus Law-mind for free. But here were expenditures showing that Phaethon had approached the Westmind Sophotech, and purchased an extraordinarily expensive advisory, aesthetic, and publicist Mind-set, equipped it with personality-extrapolation programs of the Hortators. The advisory-mind was named Monomarchos.

This was significant. One did not create an attorney, equip him with billions of seconds of intelligence, and give him the ability to anticipate the thoughts and actions of the Hortators, unless one were being called before the Synod for an Inquiry.

A Synod was not a trial; nor did the Hortators possess real legal authority. They were not the Curia. But they did possess social and moral authority. In the modern day, the only way to discourage acts that where socially unacceptable, yet not directly harmful to others, was by means of Hortatory. Hortators could not punish, not directly. The Sophotechs would interfere if men used force or coercion against each other except in self-defense. But men could organize censures, complaints, protests, and, in more extreme cases, boycotts and shunnings. Many business efforts put clauses in all their standard contracts forbidding them from doing business with or selling goods to those whom the Hortators had boycotted, including important food, energy, and communication interests.

The Curia and Parliament, of course, could do nothing to interfere. Contracts were private matters, and could not be dissolved by the interference of the government; and, as long as subscription to the Hortators was not compelled by physical force, it could not be forbidden.

Phaethon realized that here was his first solid clue. Whatever he had done to rouse the Hortators to conduct an Inquiry against him, that was the act that had lost him his memory. It was safe to conclude that Phaethon had agreed to the am-

nesia to avoid a worse penalty, such as a public denouncement, or a shunning.

But Phaethon had not been called before the Curia. He had not been accused of crime. That, at least, was a relief.

There was no more to be learned here. Phaethon touched the yellow disk icon to reestablish network contact with Rhadamanthus.

And there he was, frozen in the scene in the Rhadamanthus memory chamber, every detail perfectly in place. The sunlight was slanting in through the windows, glittering on memory-caskets and cabinets. Dust motes hung in the sunbeam, motionless. His wife was there, a picture, looking lovely.

When Phaethon took a deep breath, the same sensations in his brain that could have been caused by a tension in his abdomen and a straightening of his spine were created, including a subconscious signal of gathering courage.

"I'm ready. Resume."

AT TEA

Perhaps Daphne had also used the opportunity to think; she seemed more composed. "My dearest, I owe you an explanation; but in return, you owe me that you must use your most honest and rigorous sense of justice you can muster." She had stepped close to him and was staring up into his eyes.

He touched her on the shoulder and pushed her slightly away. "First I have a few questions which I insist you answer."

Daphne's red lips compressed. The responder studs on her Warlock costume fluttered angrily, as if she were deflecting a Bellipotent nanoweapon, or painful poison. "Very well! Ask!"

"I just want to know how you thought you could get away with this? The holes in my memory are so large that I could not have lived for very long without noticing. Yet they concern many things which are matters of public record. Expenditures of antimatter, energy, computer time. Interplanetary flights. I can go look into the space traffic control records to find where I went or what I did. Hortator's inquires are matters of public record. It will only take me a little time to piece this together. So what was the point of all this?"

Daphne said simply, "But I don't know."

Phaethon frowned and turned to look at Rhadamanthus.

Rhadamanthus said, "I cannot do a Noetic reading without the express consent of the subject."

Daphne said, "I do not know why this was done to you, or what is in the box. I swear it."

Rhadamanthus said, "Her words accurately reflect her thoughts. She is not lying. What she intends to say next is also not a lie."

She said, "Part of the agreement must have been for me to forget also. Whatever it is you did, I am not laughing at you behind your back, or fooling you, or leading you around by the nose. I do not know what it was."

"Then how did you know to—"

Without a word she drew a memory casket of her own from the pocket of her long coat. It was small and silver, the size of a thimble-box. Letters written in her spidery, flowing, hand-script read:

" 'This file contains material concerning the one you call your husband, which you and he have mutually agreed to forget.

" 'I. If you are reading these words, it means Phaethon has taken steps to recover his forbidden memories. If he should do so, he will leave the Golden Oecumene, perhaps forever.

" 2. Phaethon is penniless, and lives at Rhadamanthus House only at Helion's behest, and only for so long as he should not recover his lost memories.

" '3. He has done nothing criminal, but the shame and anxiety springing from his plans were more than you or he could bear. You well know why you agree with the reasons for the amnesia, and the benefit you enjoy.

" '4. Your amnesia is contingent on his. If he should ever read the forbidden file, this file will automatically open.

" '5. You are not allowed, otherwise, to open this file. Honest relations with Phaethon require that you not keep secrets from him.' "

Phaethon handed the casket back. Perhaps he was ashamed of his suspicions. She returned the casket to her pocket.

"By why did you—"

She interrupted, "Can we go somewhere else and talk? I find this chamber oppressive." Daphne hugged herself, staring at the floor, and shivered.

Phaethon put his casket down where he had found it. He removed the key and tossed it with a casual gesture to where Rhadamanthus stood in the doorway.

Turning his back to the casket, he put one arm around his wife and led her down the stairs.

They ordered Rhadamanthus to serve them tea in the garden. Phaethon changed to period costume; a stiff collar, a long black frock coat. Daphne wore an Edwardian tea dress of burgundy, which flattered her complexion, and a narrow-brimmed straw skimmer with a complex bow dangling down the back. Phaethon forgave the mild anachronism, to see how fine she looked.

They sipped from cups of eggshell china; they nibbled cakes from silver trays. Phaethon secretly suspected that the simulated taste of tea and scones were better than the originals tasted.