I had to think my way through my predicament.
With the aid of hindsight, I can now understand that the suspicion that I was locked into a manufactured illusion was an asset. It insulated me against all possible surprises, all possible alarms. Had I not spent so much of my early life manufacturing and doctoring admittedly primitive VE tapes for sale to fans of vicarious sex, violence, and adventure, I might have been a great deal more disturbed by the discoveries I was about to make, but I was better equipped than most to find out what had become of me without experiencing terror or madness.
For a few minutes, therefore, I was content simply to stare at the occupant of the other chair. She looked like a child female, I guessed, although I wasnt entirely confident of the judgment of approximately nine years of age.
Her smartsuit wasnt as snug as mine, and it was much more brightly colored: intricately patterned in sky blue, lilac and wine red. The way she looked back at me
suggested so strongly that she wasnt what she seemed that I was almost convinced that she had to be an illusion: a visual trick like the star field outside the window.
When PicoCon had attempted to intimidate Damon he had been taken to a ledge half way up an impossibly high mountain and interrogated by a humanoid figure whose surface was a mirror. It had been a demonstration of awesome power and an invitation to temptation. Damon had told me at the time that he had remained obdurate in the face of that temptation, and I think he meant it. Alas, he had underestimated the force of his own wisdom and his capacity for compromise; he had eventually given in and joined the ruling elite.
I had always prided myself on having more self-knowledge than my one-time protégé, even when our roles were reversed, and I was prepared to respond to any threat or temptation in a thoroughly realistic manner.
After deciding that the nine-year-old girl was only wearing that appearance, concealing within it something far older, probably artificial and possibly dangerous, I deliberately looked away. I looked out of the window, at the star field.
It seemed the obvious thing to do: why else would the window be part of the scene?
All stars look alike, especially when aggregated in their millions, so it didnt take long to absorb the impression. I was tempted to get up and go to the window, to touch it and by that touching, perhaps, to reveal its falsity. I had already made enough small movements, though, to inform myself that something was wrong with my sense of weight and balance. I wasnt sure that I could get up without seeming awkward, and I wasnt sure that I could walk to the window without stumbling. I had to suppose that if I werent stuck in VE I must be some place where the gravity was less than Earths maybe as much as twenty or thirty percent less. That seemed absurd enough to strengthen the hypothesis that I was in a VE but even in a VE one can easily lose ones balance.
I didnt want to appear clumsy. I wanted to offer the appearance of a man in full control of himself: a man who couldnt be thrown by any combination of circumstances, no matter how upsetting they might have been to an ordinary mortal.
So I looked back at the fake little girl, having decided that the sensible thing to do was to open negotiations.
She got there ahead of me.
How do you feel, Mr. Tamlin? the little girl asked.
Not quite myself, I told her, truthfully. Is that you, Damon? It was a hopeful question. If the whole thing was a fake, a petty and purposeless melodrama, then the better possibility was that it had been rigged by a friend rather than an enemy. Perhaps it was my birthday, and Damon had laid on a surprise party in Dreamland.
My name is Davida Berenike Columella, the little girl replied. Im the chief cryogenic engineer on the microworld Excelsior, in the Counter-Earth Cluster.
Wow, I said, as casually as I could, by way of demonstrating my refusal to be impressed or startled. The Counter-Earth Cluster. What year is it supposed to be?
In my day, there had been no cluster of microworlds making its way around Earths orbital path on the far side of the sun, although there had been a couple of clusters at Lagrange points much closer to home.
By our reckoning, this is year ninety-nine, the child answered. According to the Christian Era calendar that was in use when you were frozen down, this year would be three thousand two hundred and sixty-three. March the twenty-first of that year, to be exact.
I wanted to say wow again, but I couldnt muster enough ironic contempt. I swallowed, although there was nothing in my mouth or throat to swallow.
I seem to have mislaid some of my memories, I said, less confidently than I would have liked. Could you possibly remind me of what Ive been doing lately?
She nodded her head gravely. I understand that short-term memory loss was a common side effect of the SusAn technologies in use in your time, she said. Our records are incomplete, but it seems that you were frozen down on the third of September twenty-two zero-two, presumably by order of a court.