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himself, yes. Perchance to starve, though he d ultimately failed at that as
well.
 I turned you off, he says now.  I buried you in space. I would have fed you
into the fax if it had been working. Ishould have fed you into the sun.
On the throne, the ancient robot considers these words, and slowly nods.  Or
vice versa. It s . . . good to see you, Father. I had no idea you were still
alive. When first my resurrection was upon me, I . . . thought myself awakened
by providence. Ifelt it: the finger of God upon me, commanding life. It
commanded nothing else, but the . . . ship had awakened as well. From nowhere
had appeared a sparkle of stored energy enough to carry me down, to this . . .
world I found myself circling. I survived the crash, and if the fax machine
was dead for you, Father, then the . . . finger of God must have touched it as
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well. For I stepped into it once, and out of it twice. And from that moment,
my . . . path has been clear. To reestablish a monarchy over all that exists.
The story makes no sense the  Glimmer King is clearly deranged but Bruno can
picture this much: one robot overpowering its faxed twin, strapping it down,
tinkering with its circuitry until resistance ceases and obedience is
absolute. And then feeding this perfect soldier back into the fax machine to
create an army. Capturing first a village, then a fortress, a city, a world.
Spreading outward in relentless waves, to fill the universe with some strange
echo of Bascal s would-be paradise.
Ah, God, Bascaldid have vision. Would so many have followed him otherwise? To
their ruin and his? He d understood the human heart as well as his mother,
though he d used the knowledge very differently.Very differently.
 Stop all this, Bruno says to the thing in the chair.  Please. You re
defective; your very construction prevents you from grasping the horrors
you ve spawned, the horror youare . The responsibility is mine. You have no
idea what I ve done here, through you. But take my word: the society you dream
of cannot be built on a foundation of murder. It must be freely chosen, and
chosen anew with every morning. It must be the sum total dream of all who
dwell within it.
 Ah, says the Glimmer King,  but the mind of meat is wounded by its own
imperfections. It is you who cannot conceive the totality of my vision. I knew
it the . . . moment I awoke: that in the quantum-crystalline purity of my
thoughts I was blessed, and more than blessed. Do not blame yourself, Bruno,
for it was . . . God s own hand that crafted me. You were merely the
instrument.
 What the hell is going on? demands Radmer.  Is this the Glimmer King? This?
Bascal s recording in a robot body? Are youkidding me ?
And finally, the robot s head swivels toward Radmer. There s a sound, a kind
of electronic gasp or grunt or snigger, and then Bascal s voice again:  Conrad
Mursk? Do I . . . dream? Is that you I see before me, fighting at my own
father s . . . side, whom once you fought against?
 Aye, says Radmer, and spits on the inside of his helmet dome.  Though I m
called Radmer now, and have sworn to kill you on sight.
 Radmer! says the Glimmer King.  Ah! How many . . . times we ve heard that
name, Hugo and I! From books, from songs, from the lips of tortured prisoners!
I . . . should have known it was you, always sticking your nose in the
business of others. How little surprised I am to find you here! I knew someday
we would . . . face each other again, and you would be called to account for
your wrongs against me. And yet, now that the . . . moment is here I can only
recall that you twice saved my life. He spreads his arms.  Give us a . . .
kiss, me boyo, and join us in remaking this world.
 If you owe me anything, then stop this war, Radmer says coldly. He, too,
seems little surprised now that the shock has worn off. It makes sense;
Bascal s name had been mentioned more than once in connection with the Glimmer
King, by the robot soldiers themselves! The Senatoria Plurum in Nubia had even
written it into their formal record, which Radmer claimed to have carried away
with his own hands. But surely the real Bascal had ended his days swinging
from a Barnardean lamppost, a lynch mob s noose slowly throttling the life
from his damnably hard-to-kill body. And even if he hadn t, could he have come
so far? Marshaled the resources of his dying colony to send his only self back
here? Perhaps, yes. But he didn t.
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 Ah, says the Glimmer King, sounding regretful.  I could wish for you to . .
. disappoint me, but alas your character holds firm. He rises from his
throne, steps down from the dais, and walks toward Bruno and Radmer.
 Halt, say Bordi and Zuq together, raising their blitterstaves to block the
way.
But suddenly the battle is on again; robot soldiers are swarming the two, and
though they fight hard to protect their charges, there are only two of them
against an infinite supply of attackers. They re driven back, and the Glimmer
King continues to advance.
 Halt, Radmer warns him in the same tone, raising his own staff.
But the Glimmer King s mind, however defective, is faster than meat. In his
impervium hand is a miniature blitterstick, of the sort sometimes carried by
Olders in this world. Of the sort Radmer himself had carried, until the battle
of Shanru afforded him a stouter weapon. With it Bascal easily blocks Radmer s
feint, and where the two sticks touch there s immediate trouble; they attack
each other as easily as they attack mere impervium. There are sizzles and pops
and flashes of light, and both weapons fall to dust.
Then, with offhand grace, Bascal kicks Radmer hard in the stomach, and raises
a hand in the air. As if by magic, another blitterstick flips into his grasp,
hurled by one of the robots somewhere in the room. He touches it to Radmer s
suit, which has some built-in resistance and doesn t immediately fail. But it
does burn and sizzle in glowing, expanding rings, and Radmer shouts,  Escape
sequence! Unnecessarily, for the suit, sensing that he s not surrounded by
vacuum or poison, is already peeling away. Better no armor than dying,
defective armor! There s another blow to Radmer s stomach unprotected this
time and he falls away, gagging and coughing.
And then the Glimmer King is attacking Bruno, striking down his staff and his
armor. There is no expression on his blank metal face, but his body is fluid
with rage.
 You ve ruined my . . . only fax, the robot says angrily, over the din of
battle all around.  You ve set me back a hundred years. I should kill you both [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]