Schild’s Ladder

"Help you do what?" She’d managed to get all four of them moving simultaneously, without his aid. Tchicaya hadn’t played with them since he was an infant, but he’d never been able to hold the attention of more than one at a time.

"Make them collide."

"They won’t do that."

"I want to get their legs tangled together. I don’t think they understand that that can happen."

"You’re a real sadist," he protested. "Why do you want to confuse them?"

Mariama rolled her eyes. "It can’t hurt them. Nothing can."

"It’s not them I’m worried about. It’s the fact that you enjoy it."

She kept her eyes on him without breaking step. "It’s just an experiment. It’s not malicious. Why do you always have to be such a prig?"

Tchicaya felt a surge of anger, but he fought it down and replied pleasantly, "All right, I’ll help you. Tell me what to do." He caught the flicker of disappointment in her eyes before she smiled and started issuing detailed instructions.

The hexapods were primitive, but their self-and-environment model was more reliable than Mariama had imagined. After fifteen minutes trying to trick them into tying their legs into knots, she finally gave up. Tchicaya collapsed on the grass, breathless, and she joined him.

He stared up into the sky. It had grown pale already, almost colorless. It had been summer when the Slowdown began; he’d forgotten how short the winter days were.

Mariama said, "Has anyone you know even heard of Erdal?"

"No."

She snorted, her expectations confirmed. "He probably lives on the other side of the planet."

"So? Do you want half the planet to go into Slowdown, and the other half not?" Everyone on Turaev was connected somehow. While Erdal traveled, the whole world would wait for him, together. It was either that, or they broke into a thousand shards.

Mariama turned to face him. "You know why they do it, don’t you?"

It was a rhetorical question. People always had an ulterior motive, and Tchicaya had always been taken in by their explanations. He squirmed like an eager child and asked with mock excitement, "No, tell me!"

Mariama shot him a poisonous look, but refused to be sidetracked. "Guilt. Cosmic apron strings. Do you think poor Erdal would dare not come home, with nine million people holding their breath for him?"

Tchicaya knew better than to dispute this claim directly; instead, he countered, "What’s so bad about Slowdown? It doesn’t hurt anyone."

Mariama was venomous. "While every other civilized planet is flowering into something new, we do nothing and go nowhere, ten thousand times more ponderously than before."

"Lots of other planets do Slowdown."

"Not civilized ones."

Tchicaya fell silent. A faint star had appeared directly above him, even before the sun had fully set.

He said, "So you’ll leave one day? For good?" The question produced an odd, tight sensation in his windpipe. He’d never lost synch with anyone; he couldn’t imagine that kind of unbridgeable separation.

"No."

He turned to her, surprised. She said, "I plan to whip the whole planet into life, instead. Anything less would just be selfish, wouldn’t it?"

The machinery inside the power station was robust and intelligent enough to defend itself, and to safeguard any visitors, without the need for high fences or locked doors. Tchicaya remembered the place as being noisier the last time he’d explored it, but Slowdown had reduced the flow of waste from the town to an inaudible trickle. Energy was extracted from the waste by an enzyme-driven electrochemical process that he was yet to study in detail; fortunately, some of the energy ended up as heat, and even the diminished output was enough to make the building habitable at night. Mariama had made a nest of blankets right up against the coolant pipes that led to the radiator fins on the roof.

Tchicaya sniffed the air cautiously, but there was no trace of the usual offensive odor, maybe because there was not only less sewage passing through, but the undiminished runoff from the fields was diluting it. There was a strange, boiled-vegetable smell to the place, but it was nothing he couldn’t tolerate.

Mariama had stockpiled cans of food, self-heating rations of the kind people took into the untouched, frozen lands to the south. It must have taken her a while to build up the collection without attracting suspicion. She handed him a can, and he pressed the tab to start it heating.

"How long were you planning this?" he asked.

"A bit more than a year."

"That’s before I even knew Erdal would be traveling."

"Me too. I just wanted to be prepared, whenever it happened."

Tchicaya was impressed, and a little daunted. It was one thing to watch the sun and the stars racing around the sky, and think: what if I could be as fast as them? Plotting to break out of Slowdown before she’d even experienced it required an entirely different line of thought.

"What were you doing? Before you came to my house?"

She shrugged. "Just exploring. Messing about. Being careful not to wake the drones."