release energy at the rate of 6,000 megawatts, equivalent to the output of six large nuclear power plants."
—Stephen Hawking
The builders, caretakers, and first inhabitants of the harvesters worked around the clock, without thought of rest. Bey Wolf was beginning to wonder if the human occupants were expected to follow the same schedule.
When the conference with Cinnabar Baker was over, he had been settled into a huge but pleasant set of rooms complete with form-change unit and extended library access. Leo Manx, who had taken him there, pointed out that the quarters provided a fortieth of a g sleeping environment. He obviously expected Wolf to be delighted. Bey, knowing that the source of the local gravitational field could only be a power kernel no more than thirty meters below his feet, was not pleased. The triple shielding on a Kerr-Newman black hole had never failed—yet—but according to Sylvia Fernald, several in Cloudland had recently come close. At thirty meters, a few gigawatts of hard radiation would not just kill him, it would dissolve him, melt his flesh from his bones before he knew what was happening.
Bey was tired by the journey and the novelty of the harvester, and glutted with new information. He wanted to he down for a while and digest what he had learned, but Leo Manx showed no signs of leaving.
"Sylvia Fernald and Aybee Smith will both be excellent colleagues," he said. He had stretched himself out on Bey's bed, just lengthy enough for him, and closed his eyes. "But there are things about them that you should know before we begin. Aybee is extremely able but a little immature."
The bed was apparently very comfortable. Bey coveted it. "He's just a kid."
"Exactly. Nineteen years old, but more knowledgeable and scientifically creative than anyone else in the Outer System. You may rely on him for science, but not for judgment."
"I'll remember. What about Sylvia Fernald?"
"She is more mature and also more complex. Her judgment on some of the subjects we discussed today may not be sound."
"Fifty-five years old?"
Manx lifted his head from the bed to stare at Wolf. "Fifty-six, as I recall. Are you able to do that with anyone?"
"I don't know. Probably. I've had lots of form-change experience. Why is she suspect?"
"You saw the list of names of people who died or disappeared. One of them, Paul Chu, was Sylvia's consort for many years. I believe they planned to become parents. But he vanished without a trace six months ago on a routine trip to the edge of the Halo."
"The Halo again."
"I know. I have had the same thought But without evidence . . ."
"We'll have to look for evidence."
"Certainly." Manx lay silent, eyes closed, for another minute or two. He sighed. "You know, I was originally very doubtful about my trip to Earth, but it was a very good idea. Before I went, I always suspected that deep inside I was by nature an Earthman. Your history is so fascinating, and Earth is the origin of all the worthwhile cultures and arts. But not until I had made a journey there for myself did I realize that it was not for me. It was not home. This is home." He patted the bed and lapsed into another and longer silence.
"I think I'll have a sign made for that far wall," Bey said at last.
"Indeed?"
"Yes. It will say, 'If you have nothing to do, please don't do it here.'"
Manx frowned and opened his eyes. "You wish for privacy?"
"I wish for sleep."
Manx sat up reluctantly. "Very well. Then I will leave. But I must mention one other matter of importance to you. I have completed my analysis of your own difficulties."
Fatigue changed to a tingle of anticipation. "The hallucinations? You think you can stop them?"
"No. On the contrary, I am sure I cannot. Because I am convinced that what you have been seeing are not the distorted constructs of your brain. They have been imposed from without ."
"That's impossible. I've been in situations where I saw that Red Man, and there were other people watching the same
—Stephen Hawking
The builders, caretakers, and first inhabitants of the harvesters worked around the clock, without thought of rest. Bey Wolf was beginning to wonder if the human occupants were expected to follow the same schedule.
When the conference with Cinnabar Baker was over, he had been settled into a huge but pleasant set of rooms complete with form-change unit and extended library access. Leo Manx, who had taken him there, pointed out that the quarters provided a fortieth of a g sleeping environment. He obviously expected Wolf to be delighted. Bey, knowing that the source of the local gravitational field could only be a power kernel no more than thirty meters below his feet, was not pleased. The triple shielding on a Kerr-Newman black hole had never failed—yet—but according to Sylvia Fernald, several in Cloudland had recently come close. At thirty meters, a few gigawatts of hard radiation would not just kill him, it would dissolve him, melt his flesh from his bones before he knew what was happening.
Bey was tired by the journey and the novelty of the harvester, and glutted with new information. He wanted to he down for a while and digest what he had learned, but Leo Manx showed no signs of leaving.
"Sylvia Fernald and Aybee Smith will both be excellent colleagues," he said. He had stretched himself out on Bey's bed, just lengthy enough for him, and closed his eyes. "But there are things about them that you should know before we begin. Aybee is extremely able but a little immature."
The bed was apparently very comfortable. Bey coveted it. "He's just a kid."
"Exactly. Nineteen years old, but more knowledgeable and scientifically creative than anyone else in the Outer System. You may rely on him for science, but not for judgment."
"I'll remember. What about Sylvia Fernald?"
"She is more mature and also more complex. Her judgment on some of the subjects we discussed today may not be sound."
"Fifty-five years old?"
Manx lifted his head from the bed to stare at Wolf. "Fifty-six, as I recall. Are you able to do that with anyone?"
"I don't know. Probably. I've had lots of form-change experience. Why is she suspect?"
"You saw the list of names of people who died or disappeared. One of them, Paul Chu, was Sylvia's consort for many years. I believe they planned to become parents. But he vanished without a trace six months ago on a routine trip to the edge of the Halo."
"The Halo again."
"I know. I have had the same thought But without evidence . . ."
"We'll have to look for evidence."
"Certainly." Manx lay silent, eyes closed, for another minute or two. He sighed. "You know, I was originally very doubtful about my trip to Earth, but it was a very good idea. Before I went, I always suspected that deep inside I was by nature an Earthman. Your history is so fascinating, and Earth is the origin of all the worthwhile cultures and arts. But not until I had made a journey there for myself did I realize that it was not for me. It was not home. This is home." He patted the bed and lapsed into another and longer silence.
"I think I'll have a sign made for that far wall," Bey said at last.
"Indeed?"
"Yes. It will say, 'If you have nothing to do, please don't do it here.'"
Manx frowned and opened his eyes. "You wish for privacy?"
"I wish for sleep."
Manx sat up reluctantly. "Very well. Then I will leave. But I must mention one other matter of importance to you. I have completed my analysis of your own difficulties."
Fatigue changed to a tingle of anticipation. "The hallucinations? You think you can stop them?"
"No. On the contrary, I am sure I cannot. Because I am convinced that what you have been seeing are not the distorted constructs of your brain. They have been imposed from without ."
"That's impossible. I've been in situations where I saw that Red Man, and there were other people watching the same
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