A Deepness in the Sky

Ezr stared out in the direction of the voice. There was something about Pham's voice, a hatred that went beyond reason.What did happen withReynolt? Things were going terribly wrong, but all he had were the words already planned: "You didn't kill her. I believe what Trud said. Killing her would have been easy, and could have looked just as much like an accident. And so I think I know about where Nau's stories are true and where they are lies." Ezr reached out with both arms, and his hands fell on Pham's shoulders. He stared intently into the dark, willing vision. "Pham! All your life you have been driven. That, and your genius, made us what we are. But you wanted more. Quite what, is never clear in the Qeng Ho histories, but I could see it in Nau's records. You had a wonderful dream, Pham. Focus might give it to you...but the price is too high."

There was a moment of silence, then a sound, almost like an animal in pain. Abruptly, Ezr's arms were struck aside. Two hands grabbed him at the throat, viselike and squeezing shut. All that was left was shocked surprise, dimming toward final blackout... .

And then the hands relaxed their pressure. All around him glowbugs flashed stark white light, dozens of tiny popping sounds. He gasped, dazed, trying to understand. Pham was blowing the capacitors in all the nearby localizers! The pinpoint flashes showed Pham Nuwen in bright and black stop action. There was a glittering madness in his eyes that Ezr had never seen.

The lights were farther away now, the destruction spreading outward from them. Ezr's voice came out a terrified croak: "Pham. Our cover. Without the localizers—"

The last of the tiny flashes showed a twisted smile on the other's face. "Without the localizers, we die! Die, little Vinh. I no longer care."

Ezr heard him turn and push off. What was left was darkness and silence—and death that must be no more than Ksecs away. For no matter how hard Ezr tried, he found no sign of localizer support.

What do you do when your dream dies? Pham floated alone in the dark of his room, and thought about the question with something like curiosity, almost indifference. At the edge of his consciousness, he was aware of the ragged hole he had punched in the localizer net. The net was robust. That disruption was not automatically revealed to the Emergent snoops. But without careful revision, news of the failure would eventually percolate out to them. He was vaguely aware that Ezr Vinh was desperately trying to cover the burnout. Surprisingly, the boy had not made things worse, but he had not a prayer of doing the high-level cover-up. A few hundred seconds, at most, and Kal Omo would alert Brughel...and the charade would be over. It really didn't matter anymore.

What do you do when your dream dies?

Dreams die in every life. Everyone gets old. There is promise in the beginning when life seems so bright. The promise fades when the years get short.

Butnot Pham's dream. He had pursued it across five hundred light-years and three thousand years of objective time. It was a dream of a single Humankind, where justice would not be occasional flickering light, but a steady glow across all of Human Space. He dreamed of a civilization where continents never burned, and where two-bit kings didn't give children away as hostages. When Sammy had dug him out of the cemeterium at Lowcinder, Pham was dying, butnot the dream. The dream had been bright as ever in his mind, consuming him.

And here he hadfound the edge that could make the dream come true: Focus, an automation deep enough and smart enough to manage an inter-stellar civilization. It could create the "loving slaves" whose possibility Sura had made jest of. So what if it was slavery? There were far greater injustices that Focus would banish forever.

Maybe.

He had looked away from Egil Manrhi, now scarcely more than a scanning device. He had looked away from Trixia Bonsol and all the others, locked for years in their tiny cells. But yesterday, he'd been forced to look upon Anne Reynolt, standing alone against all the power of Focus, spending her life to resist that power. The particulars had been a great surprise to Pham, but he had been fooling himself to think that such was not part of the price for his dream. Anne was Cindi Ducanh writ large.

And today, Ezr Vinh and his little speech:"The price is too high!" EzrVinh !

Pham might have his dream...if he gave up the reason for it.

Once before, a Vinh had stepped between him and final success.Letthe Vinh snake die. Let them all die. Let me die.

Pham curled inward upon himself. He was suddenly conscious that he was weeping. Except as a deceit, he hadn't cried since...he didn't remember...perhaps since those days at the other end of his life when he first came aboard theReprise.

So what do you do when your dream dies?

When your dream dies, you give it up.