Slant by Greg Bear

desires, for she is feeling overly curious, even perversely so. "Let's hear it." "I was in FFDC collapse for a year and a half. When I underwent this collapse, the rate of therapy for thymic disturbances in the human population was four out of ten employed persons, and three in ten unemployed. The rate now is six out of ten employed, and one in ten unemployed. Have the definitions for these disturbances broadened, or are more people feeling bad?" "It's a social phenomenon. You've done a lot of work on social activity as a networked neural-like phenomenon." "Yes, Nathan, I understand the weather of cultural and economic trends, and that corporations now demand high natural or fully therapied employees because of world-wide competition pressures and the need for greater efficiency. But is this purely a spurious flow, the result of misperceptions and irrational expectations, or are there in fact more unhappy humans on this planet, in the sum of human cultures? The trends are widespread."
    38 GREG BEAR
    "Very good question," Nathan says. "I hope to understand my own malfunction better," Jill says, "to avoid having something similar happen again." Ayesha's expression is both fascinated and a little embarrassed, as if she has intruded upon an intimate family discussion. "Your collapse was nothing you could have foreseen or prevented, Jill. I thought you understood that." "I do, Nathan, but I do not believe it, entirely." "Ahhh. Well, that's..." Nathan considers some more. "You had too many feedback loops interrupting your neural processes at too high a resolution, higher than you could sustain, Jill. Before your collapse, you were modeling yourself seventeen times over, at a level of resolution--well, simply speaking, you were generating I-thou loops at more than ten thousand Hertz. I doubt even God could sustain that sort of self-awareness." Jill chuckles. Ayesha smiles, but more in bafflement than amusement. "Really, Jill," Nathan continues. "You are based to some extent on human algorithms, less so than you were before the collapse, I might add--but you simply can't compare yourself, your weaknesses, I mean, to the weaknesses of a human brain. Your neural circuitry is incredibly robust. It can't be trodden down by stress or misuse. You have none of the anachronistic chemical defense mechanisms found in our bodies." Jill never pauses in discussions. Nathan has learned to never interpret her quick responses as thoughtlessness. "May I access LitVid channels which can help me understand thymic imbalances and pathic disturbances?" "Of course. They won't do you any harm." "I wish to access the works of some of the highly regarded boutique creators. Especially the Bloomsbury and Kahlo groups." Nathan smiles broadly and shakes his head. "Why not the Arm Sexton and Sylvia Plath whole-life vids?" Ayesha suggests innocently. Nathan shoots her a stern look. "They might be useful, as well," Jill says. "Thank you. And the Emanuel Goldsmith boutique." Nathan shrugs his shoulders and holds up his hands, for all the world, as if he is a father and she is his adolescent daughter, hell-bent on exploring the darker sides of life. Vicariously, at least. "I don't know to what extent you can make a simulacrum that will receive the brain-specific inputs," Nathan says. "You're not built like the average Yox consumer." "I believe it can be done. In the future, thinkers will reside in every house, as friends and confidantes. We will design and deliver Yox and whole-life rids." "Yes, well, I'd still love to see how you do it." "I .,;11 cMn,m xrnu N!rhanMarhan."
    / SLANT 39
    Nathan signs off.
    "How embarrassing," Ayesha says as they leave the room. Jill listens to their departing conversation.
    "She's pretty wonderful, isn't she?" Nathan says.
    "Makes me feel like an old rag," Ayesha says. "What a voice! Where'd she get that voice?"
    "Actually, it belongs to a woman named Seefa Schnee. Before she left Mind
    Design, she had a hand in the early stages of