John Wright - The Golden Age

Yet Rhadamanthus himself may have been corrupted by the attacking virus civilization when he gave that advice....

If so, then would testifying that he suffered an attack somehow benefit, or be part of the plan of, the enemy? And, if so, what was the enemy's plan? Such a plan must have something to do with the Phoenix Exultant. Something ... but what?

Phaethon grimaced in bitter humor. Perhaps he had been raised too closely to machine-minds for his own good. He had relied so often on minds swifter than his own to solve all puzzles and conundrums; and his mind perhaps was not swift enough to unravel this convoluted enigma, not while he stood here on trial.

And then there was a question of due proportion and degree. Suppose he were willing to sacrifice his career or his life to protect the Golden Oecumene from disaster; every man

of ordinary decency, throughout the ages, made such sacrifices for their homelands and their ideals. But did warning the enemy of Atkins's investigation—did that constitute a disaster for the Oecumene or only an inconvenience for Atkins? Suffering exile and death for one's homeland was one thing; suffering exile and death for Atkins's convenience was another.

What finally decided him was this: Phaethon did not know how important secrecy was. But he knew how important the Phoenix Exultant was. Phaethon spoke:

"I did not speak before because Atkins asked me not to. But now that Harrier has spoken, no good is served by me any longer keeping silent. There is an enemy among us, perhaps watching us this very moment. I suspect it is an enemy from another star."

Phaethon in a few brief words, told about the attack by Scaramouche on the steps of the Eveningstar Mausoleum, about how an unmaker virus had been introduced into his surrounding thoughtspace, overwhelming Eleemosynary defenses, and attempting to spread throughout the Mentality.

Deep silence hung in the chamber. Phaethon could see the looks of skepticism and disbelief growing on the faces around him as he spoke. A look of hope was dying in Helion's eyes; Gannis was smiling openly.

Messilina Secondus Eveningstar of Eveningstar Mansion offered: "We have many monitors and nanomachines throughout the area, ecochemical watch circuits in the air and soil, including monitors watching the horses near our mausoleum. There was no Neptunian; there was no second mannequin brought out of our waiting room; Phaethon was

alone."

A high-level information supervisor from the Eleemosynary Composition stood. "Service to all requires a deep sharing of information. We have examined the logs and records surrounding the moments Phaethon describes. He did snap his helmet shut inside one of our public boxes, breaking the connections and doing minor damage to our jacks and lines.

Nothing else of his testimony is reflected in our memories or records."

The Eleemosynary supervisor paused to let his comment sink in. He continued: "Gentlemen of the College. There was no attack. We were there; we would have seen it."

Phaethon said, "The attacking virus was successful, and may have edited your memories."

Some of the looks of impatience were hardening into expressions of boredom and contempt.

"With all due respect," said the Eleemosynary supervisor, "such a redaction would require this virus to bypass sixty-four information security checkpoints in our mind-group, and alter four sets of records: the original, the backup, the conscience ordinators, and the data traffic control monitor. Since our records are kept in associative analogue pathways rather than by a linear system, the virus would have had to examine each record, or even each thought, and do all this while suppressing the awareness-flow telltales of each and every member of our mass-mind's local interest group. Assuming it take two units of information to alter one unit (one to identify and one to falsify), we are estimating a volume of some eight hundred sixty-three billion seconds of intelligence. Only So-photechs are capable of such feats."

"The attacking virus was constructed and guided by a So-photech," said Phaethon.

There was a titter of embarrassed laughter around the chamber. A Sophotech attempting a murder?

Phaethon said, "I know it sounds absurd; don't you think I know how absurd it sounds? But it—I think it is called Nothing—it was not one of our Sophotechs, not part of the Earthmind community! It is a mind from outer space, it must be!"

A dull silence filled the room.

The looks of contempt had changed. Contempt was a look one gave to equals, men whom one scorned but who were nonetheless sane men. Now the expressions become looks of pity.

Tsychandri-Manyu needed no honed instinct to tell him the

mood in the chamber had changed again; it was obvious. "Gentlemen, we are all familiar with the erratic and frantic behavior of those who face exile. They calculate that it will do no harm for them to attempt anything—anything at all— which might avert their fate. After all, what do they care if they lie or cheat or falsify, when they will not be alive long enough to suffer the consequences of their deceits? Gentlemen! Why are we wasting our time with this? I would like to move, yet again, on the matter of Phaethon's term of exile. I move that it be permanent and absolute, so that not even food, basic services, shelter, or computer time will ever be sold to him." There was a loud noise of assent, many voices calling for

the final vote.

Nebuchednezzar said, "The motion to end debate and to call the question has been moved and seconded."

Helion rose to his feet: "My son is not a liar!" he spoke in a voice like thunder.

Whispers died.

Nebuchednezzar said, "Helion, your comment is not in order at this time."

Helion said, "Phaethon is telling the truth. We are Silver-Grays. We do not and cannot lie. And of all Silver-Grays, he is the most truthful."

Nebuchednezzar said: "I will interpret this comment as a motion to open debate on the issue of whether or not to call the question. Is there a second?"

Gan-Seven Far-Gannis of Jupiter stood up: "I will second the motion. Rhadamanthus is at hand; Phaethon is, after all, a Silver-Gray, and has deep-memory reading circuits. Would not a Noetic examination instantly reveal the truth of the matter? This is the standard procedure in such cases. We need not be impatient."

Helion's voice came softly into Phaethon's ear. This was yet another violation of the protocols binding everyone else in the scene. His father's voice said: "Just say the words, 'I swear,' and we shall have the truth." But Phaethon stood silent.

Nebuchednezzar said, "Is something the matter, Phaethon? Is there a reason why you are reluctant to permit a Noetic examination? If you wish us to examine your thoughts, please open a Noetic deep channel."

Phaethon was suspicious. Gan-Seven Far-Gannis was that part of the Gannis Hundred-mind that traveled between Jupiter and Neptune as a trade factotum. Why would he be eager for Phaethon to be vindicated? The fact that Far-Gannis had close ties with Neptunians was, perhaps, no grounds for suspicion. But what if he had ties with Xenophon?

And the enemy virus in the Mentality, hunting for Phaethon's mind, as far as Phaethon knew, was still out there. Phaethon had opened sensory, kinesthetic, and somatic channels between his brain and the Mentality in order to project a self-image into the fictional chamber Helion had created here. There was no direct access at the moment to his memories, deep structures, or thoughts. Opening a Noetic channel, however, would render him vulnerable to that virus.

Phaethon wondered if the attacker's technology would allow him to kill Phaethon, and replace him with a partial-mind of something that thought it was Phaethon but was loyal to whatever goals or desires the enemy preferred. It was a chilling thought.