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these."
-All who use cybnets shall perish.-
And of the draffs of that time? Most died, and those who lived were those who
kept their thoughts safe within themselves, and waited, as we still wait, our
thoughts safe within us.
-Our thoughts are safe within us.-
I 'd flown up to Parwon early that morning, keeping the flitter low over the
valley under the high and featureless gray clouds. A few sambur had scattered
at the sound of the rotors, but some had not, and that bothered me. Were my
flitter trips too common, so common that they were accustoming the deer to the
aircraft despite my attempts to vary my flight path?
Even after all my maintenance efforts, the odor of hot metal and oil crept
into the cockpit, and I ended up flying in a flitter filled with very cold and
fresh air.
Another dusting of snow covered the Esklant Peaks to the north, but the
flattened mountains to the east of the locial center had no new snow. Some of
the red rocks were showing through, as were the patches of darkness that
represented the meleysen groves.
After securing the flitter on the side of the Deseret locial tower away from
the two black landers where the cybs were already unloading, I walked the
three klicks to center Parwon, at not quite a run, but more than a fast
stroll.
The wind gusted out of the north, and the ground was hard underfoot. Two
ground shuttles whined past me toward the landing station, and both drivers
waved. Though I knew neither, I waved back and kept walking, past the nearly
full-klick band of the low bungalows where the admin draff families lived,
past the cinqplexes that housed the singles on compensatory duty of some sort,
past the residential transient blocs, and across the park toward the Deseret
admin building. Most of the functions were below ground, in spaces far larger
than the three-story structure in the northwest corner of the park.
The shouts of children playing came from the school west of the admin area,
and I smiled. Yslena had gone there, oh so long ago, before . . .
I shook my head. She had her own life, and that was what she had chosen, three
continents away, although she was certainly warm enough when we netlinked, or
got together all too infrequently.
The Coordinator's office was on the top level of the admin building. Outside
the office was a cedar-paneled waiting room with two long wooden benches
backed up against the inside walls. Guarding the door to the office was a
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cedar-framed and covered console station where Keiko sat. The faintest hint of
flowers filled the space, though none were in evidence.
Keiko smiled as I walked in, though she'd certainly known the minute I'd
touched down at the station. Her teeth shimmered white against her dark olive
skin and black hair. Keiko was acting as the Coordinator's aide and
receptionist though Old Earth never had a Coordinator except in times such as
these, or a receptionist. Certainly, she really didn't need the screen and
keyboard input before her, but visible technology always seemed to disarm and
reassure people, and we needed someone to remain as a link-point while the
world unraveled.
"Greetings, Coordinator." Keiko's voice was deep and smooth, revealing nothing
she did not want disclosed.
I tried not to wince at the title, and my eyes flicked to the closed door to
the office, and the three-centimeter-high brass letters.
COORDINATOR ECKTOR DEJANES
The letters were very shiny, like a vorpal's eyes, and about as soulless.
"The cybs have landed," she said.
"I saw them, and I probably should go over to the residence bloc be a presence
on site."
I opened the office door. An antique cedar desk, seemingly as broad as the
landing dock of an equally antique battle-cruiser, surveyed the seamless
expanse of windows that overlooked the park and offered a panorama of the
eastern peaks. The Deseret landing station spire was visible to the left side
of that expanse.
I turned back to Keiko. "Later, I'll need a shuttle to Ell Control. Just me."
I could have set up the arrangements, but Keiko was there, and before long I
wouldn't be able to handle it all, not the way things were headed.
'Yes, ser. Is it safe to leave the cybs unattended?"
"It is right now. Before long, it won't be." My guts told me I needed to
actually check out the feel of the ell station, although a cyb would have
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