PUSS IN BYTES
by
Sansoucy Kathenor
SMASHWORDS EDITION
*****
Published by Valerie D. Kirkwood on Smashwords
Puss In Bytes
Copyright © 2012 by Valerie D. Kirkwood
Smashwords Edition License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
*****
Puss In Bytes
Chapter One
...Whose pupils of dark-green/ Showed every color seen/ In the bow which splendidly/ Arches the rainy sky. — Joachim du Bellay (1525-1560)
The goddess Iris rose with abrupt grace from her chair, took a deep breath, swept back her disheveled blonde curls, and kicked her computer stand.
“Everlasting darkness take all mischief gods,” she snarled, and stalked out of her villa, her furious strides swirling the misty pastels of her ankle-length gown. “Hacker, curse him, has done it this time!”
Almost blindly at first, she walked through the streets, parks, and countryside of Allhome, past a scatter of formal temples, grass huts, skyscrapers, pleasure domes, artistic ruins, mansions, and split-level bungalows, until her steps and thoughts were interrupted by the sauntering passage of a lynx across her path. Her gaze followed it to its destination, a low-rise palace of buff-coloured sandstone, in whose broad, paved courtyard a dozen assorted small cats were sunning themselves.
Her expression relaxing, Iris watched a silver tabby batting a fluttering leaf around, and a scamper of Burmilla kittens chasing one another among low shrubs. Lying at ease in the middle of the path, a black Persian and a Turkish Van were washing each other, each determinedly insisting on licking the other’s face, resulting in the occasional clash of tongues. Beyond them, a Singapura took a half-hearted swipe at the passing lynx, then thought better of it. On the stone edging of a raised garden to the side, a trio of haughtily poised seal point Siamese were watching with apparently absorbed fascination as a cheetah kitten and a Pampas cat below them wrestled half-heartedly for possession of the shady corner.
“So Pakht is here again,” murmured Iris. “That should liven up Allhome a bit. I wonder — She might know how I can put some pressure on that little louse... If I can get her interested. That shouldn’t be hard, with her curiosity. And she’s friendly enough, as long as you don’t ruffle her dignity or hurt a cat.”
Making up her mind, Iris crossed the sunny courtyard, picking her way through it carefully to avoid stepping on any unwary tails, and entered the open door of the low, sprawling palace.
A tiger and a saber-tooth flanking the doorway ignored her elaborately, but an ocelot got up and paced ahead of her along a hallway. Iris followed it out onto a terrace overlooking a crystal-blue lake, where an elegantly beautiful woman with long, smooth, black hair lay half-curled on a dusky rose plush-upholstered couch, with a bronze-mackerel Mau in the crook of her knees and a lavender Somali snuggled under her chin, all three dozing in the hot sun. A pleasantly cool breeze brought drifts of summer flower scents. The ocelot made a soft sound, then turned and padded back to door duty.
The woman opened deep green eyes, the pupils contracting sharply in the sunlight, and regarded her visitor with instant alertness. “You’re Iris, are you not? One of the messengers. I believe we’ve met a few times, in the old days.”
Iris nodded. “Actually, I’ve been upgraded since then. I’m Communications Goddess now.”
“Congratulations,” said Pakht warmly. “And do you have a mess — a communication for me?”
Iris suspected there was a touch of gentle teasing in that, since Pakht was notoriously playful, but the humor was friendly, and welcome from this ancient Goddess. Iris smiled brief acknowledgement, then shook her head. “No, I just dropped in on spec. I was trying to walk off a terabyte of frustration when I noticed that your palace was occupied again.”
Pakht nodded. “You felt an oasis of calm in the complete self-absorption of my cats, and felt soothed. It happens to the receptive.”
“Well, not exactly. I mean, yeah, I did feel better as I watched them. But I came in because it occurred to me that wiping out vermin is your specialty, and I’ve got a problem with a sort of vermin.”
Pakht looked interested. She extricated herself from the two cuddling cats, stretched gracefully, and swung off the couch, her white, pleated, linen-look gown falling out of its creases as she did so. The two cats expressed disgruntlement, but promptly seized the chance to occupy the center of the couch.
“Sit down and tell me how I can help you. Will you take some wine?” Smoothing her hair in an absent gesture, Pakht moved toward the little carved ebony table where a spiral-fluted decanter and glasses stood. Both of the chairs beside it were occupied, one by a blue Korat and a sorrel Bengal and the other by a tumble of jaguarondi kittens. Pakht gently scooped the four kittens onto the couch beside the Mau and the Somali (who graciously allowed them to form a warm border to the coveted central position) then chirruped to the cats on the second chair. They jumped down and sauntered off with an air of having just thought of something much more interesting to do.
Iris took one of the vacated chairs, shaking her head with a smile. “Even knowing you’re a cat goddess, I can’t get over seeing cats obey. How do you do it?”
Pakht shrugged. “It gives them even more pleasure to do my will than to follow their own whims. It’s in the nature of our existence, theirs and mine.”
She poured the wine and handed a glass to Iris. “Be careful. I find wine is stronger nowadays than before I left.”
“No problem. I go to Earth a lot, and the stuff they’ve got there now makes wine seem weak as rainwater. Weaker than some of Earth’s rainwater, come to think of it.” She paused to sip and praise the wine, then began, “I’m not sure how much briefing you need. Rumor says you’ve been off in some of the glory-holes hobnobbing with after-lifers for a kiloyear or so...”
Pakht looked mildly pained, and her precision of speech increased. “Yes, I have been visiting several of the Heavens. When the mortals on Earth began persecuting my cats, and I wasn’t allowed to save them by slaughtering all the humans, I couldn’t bear to stay and watch the torture.”
She sat down and picked up her own glass. “But after a few centuries even a variety of Heavens becomes boring, and I heard that the worst of the persecution was over, so I thought I’d come back. But...” She frowned. “I may have made a mistake, staying away from Earth for so long. With only my cats’ worship to sustain me, I seem to have lost energy and initiative.”
“It’s not your glory-hole dallying. All the old deities are fading to black unless they can drum up some new worship. Lots are already faint ghosts, with nothing keeping them from the big delete but a few scholars mumbling over their histories. And some of the more obscure gods were erased before they could access even that much interest.”
Concern animated Pakht’s expressive face. “Then this isn’t just a temporary weakening?”
“No way. A few of the old gods are still thriving — the war gods seem indestructible — but for most of us, it’s a case of finding a new bandwagon or going the way of the dodo.”
“What do you mean, bandwagon?”
“That old human craving to worship is still going strong, and a few of the old-timers have been bright enough to redefine themselves so they can become patrons of something in modern life. For instance, one of my own crowd, Hestia, switched from hearths to furnaces, and now she’s trying to get in on heat pumps and solar heating. Tlalac — he’s a mountain god from South America — is offering his services to snow machine operators in ski resorts. Several wind and heat gods are competing to represent politicians. But some of the deities were too generic to fit any of the new roles available, or they just didn’t take the gamble fast enough, so lots of the new niches have generated brand new gods.”
“What are the newcomers like?”
“Good, poor, and you don’t want to know. Just like the old ones, but without the class.”
“How powerful are they?”
“Pretty spindly, mostly, except for the chief one. He’s called Almighty Dollar, and he’s got a finger in everything.”
“You yourself appear to be still lively, and you say you’ve even been promoted. How did you survive so well?”
“All my centuries of being only a messenger godling paid off. My existence depended on my being of service to other deities, not on direct worship. So as long as I found ways to be useful, so I was A-okay. And I stayed current in my field by trying out everything new the mortals invented — telegraph, radio, satellites. Naturally, the more important communication became on Earth, the higher my status rose.”
She put down her glass and waved away a refill. “But my position isn’t stable yet. Modern mortals don’t recognize their enthusiasms as a form of worship, so they don’t direct it properly, and I have to grab what I can get before it passes into the general supply. And things are moving so fast on Earth now that I also have to watch out that I don’t become obsolete even before I’m fully established. In fact, I hop down to Earth every now and then to check out the leading edge, instead of waiting for changes to percolate into being up here. By the way, have you gone real-time?”
“Have I what?”
“Are you updated on Earth?”
Pakht sighed. “Must you use so much slang and jargon, Iris? It’s inelegant, and since it changes too fast to be worth learning, it can be confusing.”
“If you think the bit I use is confusing, you should hear what some of the humans are doing to their languages! If I threw their talk at you, you’d think I was out of my tree. Lower those eyebrows, I’ll hold it down. But it would help if you’d do a language transformation and assimilate a modern vocabulary, so I don’t have to — ” she took a breath — “discourse in elegant but outdated phraseology, replete with acrobatic circumlocutions, in order to undertake a discussion of concepts that lack referents in older terminology. If you catch my drift?”
Pakht sighed again. “Very well. But I don’t promise to use the slang. ...There. To answer your question, naturally I’ve been curious enough to investigate what humans have produced for us. I’ve even adopted some of the new things — “ She touched the fabric of her dress — “but I haven’t had the time or energy to become familiar with all of this technology they’ve developed as a way of life.”
“Yeah, I can see weakness would slow down even your curiosity. Well, do you know what computers are?”
“Devices for calculating and for storing records.”
“And for communicating, which brings them into my field. I’ve installed a system of them here in Allhome, but fallout from Hacker’s legions on Earth keeps leaking into my network. You know, everything they invent on Earth shows up here, so no matter how often I debug the system I keep getting more worms and viruses.” She touched her short golden ringlets. “It’s a good thing I can restore the hair I’ve been tearing out.”
“Who is Hacker?”
“A new mischief god, patron of the prank players and vicious malcontents who like to ruin the work others do on their computers. Gives their nasty little souls a sense of power. The name originally meant a computer enthusiast who liked to experiment. When some of them turned rotten, so did the term. Now we call the honest and helpful computer whizzes hikers instead.”
Pakht sniffed with dainty contempt. “My creators were too fond of order to invent a mischief god, but I’ve met one or two from other cultures, Loki and Coyote, for instance. I didn’t like them. Wanton destructiveness and vandalism and malicious damage.”
“Right on. Hacker loves to scramble or vaporize all the work other people have done. When my system first started crashing, I beamed him a request to immunize my network, but all I got back was a rude graphic. I finally got so mad I’ve been thinking of transforming myself into an electron packet and going through the system to have it out with him face to face. But I’m a communicator, not a hitman. I wouldn’t know how to lean on him. He’d probably just tell me to take a hike into the nearest endless loop. Then today, when I noticed you were back, I remembered you’re a hunter, and wondered if you’d advise me...”
“Or join the hunt?” Pakht smiled.
“Would you?” cried Iris. “Wow! The most I hoped for was a crash course in dealing with vermin. If there’s anything I can do for you in return, just name it. If I can’t communicate, poof goes my existence. Running around in person with messages just can’t cut it, anymore.”
“No need for a return favor. Hunting is my pleasure and eliminating vermin my function, and this Hacker seems to be like a rat fouling a grain store. Besides, being useful should prolong my existence, and give me back some initiative.”
“Great. How do we start? I haven’t even been able to pin down Hacker’s location, let alone make him see reason.”
Pakht shrugged. “You’re too gentle, Iris. Reason doesn’t appeal to the vandal, but challenges do.” She raised her eyes to the air above her. “I summon a recording angel!”
With a little pop a small winged man in an open-necked shirt and corduroy pants tucked into soft leather half-boots appeared at eye level. He said, “Oops!" and vanished and reappeared with two more snaps of the air. “You might give a fellow a bit of warning,” he complained, waving a video camera. “I forgot my camcorder.” His half-meter form dangling nonchalantly in mid-air, he swung the camera around the scene, yanking up his legs as a kitten on the sofa woke up and took a playful swipe at them. Then he focused the camcorder on the two goddesses. “Well? What’ll it be?”
“We issue formal challenge to the upstart and incompetent godling Hacker,” said Pakht, bestowing an arrogant look on the recording. “To match wits, if he has any.”
Chapter 2
You can have no more of the cat than the skin. — English folk saying
“Right,” said the angel. “I’ll put out an APB.” He popped out of existence again.
Iris answered Pakht’s raised eyebrows with, “An all-points bulletin,” then went on, “Do you think Hacker will bite?”
“If he doesn’t, we’ll think up something even more insulting to goad him with. Meanwhile, show me this computer system of yours.”
“You got it.” Iris glanced around. “You’re a bit shy on terminals, I see, so we’ll have to transform something. What can you do without for a while?”
Pakht also looked around. The Mau promptly jumped off the couch and eeled under it. Pakht laughed. “She has a guilty conscience today. She stole some fish this morning. No, little one, I won’t transform any of you. I love you even when you’re naughty.” She gestured at a stone planter bearing a fragrant mass of cream and yellow flowers. “Will that do?”
“Sure.” Iris concentrated, and in a moment a computer and peripherals, on sleek metal stands, appeared in place of the planter.
Pakht looked at the objects, frowned slightly, and concentrated in turn. The supporting stands became gracefully carved oak tables.
Iris grinned. “Okay, if your aesthetic sense is satisfied, let’s get the show on the road. The best way is to go in for a look.”
“Inside the computer? As a pair of those electron packets you spoke of?”
“Right on. So link minds, and follow me through the transformation.”
“I am ready.”
Iris dematerialized, entered the computer, and waited. She supposed that this type of transformation was something new for Pakht. Fortunately, here in Allhome learning and transformations were easy, and there was no tricky need to conceal actions, the way they had to nowadays when they were on Earth. In a few seconds, Pakht joined her.
Within the system, the two goddesses saw each other as their usual forms, and the circuitry as wide hallways. They strolled along these, Iris pointing out the functions of the different parts.
Pakht sniffed at the bare, utilitarian look of the metal corridors, but let them stay as Iris had visualized them, putting her attention on her guide’s information.
“...And that double door over there is an AND Gate. Be careful of that kind. If you go in, the exit won’t unlock until another body goes through the entry door. That room, full of carts and trolleys, is an accumulator. Over here we have — “
There was a sudden flash of light and explosive sound. Iris jumped, then cursed as she recognized the person who appeared there. “Hacker! Trust you to add fireworks to an appearance!”
Pakht straightened from a reflexive crouch and transformed claws back into nails. “You’re prompt.”
Hacker’s form was that of a gangling young man with lank and untidy hair. He wore sneakers, jeans, and a tee-shirt imprinted, “Chaos forever”, all rather scruffy. With a smile that excluded his audience, he remarked, “Whatever gooses the ether, I’m flit of it.”
Even Iris looked slightly puzzled. She muttered, “I must get an update.”
Hacker surveyed them. “So, you no-ops want a game, do you? That’s up with me, if you can hit my baud rate.”
“I think,” said Iris, “that’s he’s accepting the challenge.”
“If you’ll put up gigaworth as a bet,” said Hacker.
Pakht surveyed him appraisingly. “What terms do you want?”
“It’s your challenge, so you input first. What are you after?”
Iris said, “I want you to immunize my network against all the viruses, logic bombs, and other killer programs that diffuse here from your followers on Earth.”
“There isn’t any general immunity; my people are too ingenious. But I could send you the vaccines for every new agitator they think up.”
Iris sighed. “If that’s the best you can do, I’ll accept that.”
“If you win.”
She nodded. “And if I lose?”
“You give me your personal manna.”
Pakht said sharply, “You can’t ask that. She’d die. She isn’t well enough established yet as communications goddess to be recreated by worshipers.”
Hacker shrugged. “She’ll be wiped anyway, if she can’t stay on-line.”
“But it’s not a fair bet, to ask her to risk so much more than you are: her life against a trifling service on your part.”
“So who cares about fair?” Hacker shrugged. “Anyway, I’m offering her what she wants. You’d rather have my life? What would that get her? I’d be rebooted the instant I died. My followers are mean and keen. They want me.”
“I’m not suggesting you even the bet up with your life. I think you should even it down by asking less of Iris.”
“Skud the haggling, Alley-cat. She’s the one who wants to rewrite her program. So trash the complaints and log off, or scroll on and give me some sport.”
“You call it sport to watch a fellow-deity die, without lifting a finger?”
“I am lifting a finger.” Hacker solemnly raised his middle finger. “I’m giving her a chance. No surge through my circuits if she’s out of her class. So what do you say, Color-job?”
Iris took a deep breath. “You’re on, Hacker.”
“And what about you, Slant-Eyes? If you’re crunching numbers for Wishy-washy here, you’ll have to macro the same risk.”
“Agreed.”
Hacker grinned. “There may be enough nutty cat-lovers to put a few bytes of manna back into you when you lose, but it’ll be fun to see you creeping around as a near-ghost.”
“What degenerate tastes you newcomers have,” remarked Pakht. “You were right, Iris, to call them lower-class.”
Hacker snarled, “Where do you get off, sneering at us? You ancients went in for human sacrifice.”
“The very ancients. Before our time.” Pakht patted a dainty yawn. “We are the product of the golden age, lying between savagery and decadence. Recent gods are merely vulgar.”
Hacker rose to the taunt. “You washed-up antiques make me puke! Claiming you’re better than we are just because you’re The Establishment!” In his anger, he dropped his affected jargon. “You keep trying to hang onto power, when you can barely hang onto life, huddling here in Allhome, scrounging for manna from the common supply, afraid to venture out and do anything! Not that you could, if you tried!”
Regaining some composure, he tossed back a straggling lock of hair that had fallen over his face. “Easy enough to guide mortals when they were nothing but peasants and their simple-minded kings, but nowadays it takes brains to run them! Brains like mine! You couldn’t even survive on modern Earth, let alone shape events there!”
“Your colossal brain doesn’t seem to have grasped the fact that Iris has frequently visited modern Earth, and her status has been improving, not deteriorating.”
“Visits! A quick peek and a frantic scuttle back to Allhome. You couldn’t survive living there.”
“If you can, we can. We have, after all, centuries more experience in dealing with humans.”
“Experience in ruling by Authority! Well, Authority doesn’t cut it anymore. They don’t even believe in you, let alone respect you! And you can’t kill off the ones you don’t like, nowadays. So you’ve got to manoeuver them. And that takes brains, not your snooty rules. You pitiful fools wouldn’t last ten days on modern Earth!”
“Are you sure enough of that to make it the object of our bet?”
Hacker hesitated a moment, apparently realizing he had been maneuvered, but he recovered promptly, twisting Pakht’s suggestion. “Sure, that can be part of the parameters of the bet. You have to stay on Earth while you try to discover and stop my big Project. If you can’t stop me, or if you run back to Allhome for help, you lose.”
Iris winced. Pakht’s gambit had just cost them the chance to use any of Allhome’s resources, which included the chance to draw on the common store of manna, of which Allhome still had plenty, since mortals kept generating unlimited quantities of unfocused worship, in all their vague philosophies, ideologies, and just plain wants. The undirected manna drifted to Allhome and kept the place in good shape. Those gods with enough reality left to make the effort could absorb energy from the reservoir — a reversal from the old days when that reservoir was filled with the overflow from the individual gods. But Hacker had managed to put that supply out of their reach. They would be dependent on what they could gather directly on Earth, and, unlike Hacker, neither goddess had steady, abundant manna flowing into her from fanatically devoted followers, although Iris’s future looked bright, with the number of smart phones burgeoning. Still, the gamble would have paid off, if Pakht had been able to hold the bet down to survival. She was right to tackle Hacker by his vanity. It was as great a weakness as his cleverness was a strength.
Iris knew that Pakht would have made the same assessment, but the cat goddess gave no outward sign of noticing a set-back. She smoothly continued her needling. “We already know you’re a braggart, Hacker, so when you speak of a big project, we can guess you really mean one that anyone else would call a moment’s pastime.”
Hacker scowled, then shrugged and looked smug. “Don’t you wish! Well, you’ll see big.” He shifted back into his affected speech. “I’ve got a krik going that’ll knock the RAM out of everyone on Earth — or enough of them as makes no difference. It’s gonzo, rezzers, it’s gonzo!”
“It always is,” said Iris tartly, consciously imitating Pakht’s air of bored contempt. “But every attack you inspire your hackers to think up is promptly counteracted by the hacker-hunters.”
“Not this one!” Hacker laughed. “Their brains’ll be too scrambled to fight back till I’ve had my fun.”
Pakht shrugged. “Your idea of fun seems to be on the level of sending rude messages. A big project would be sending them all over the world.”
“That’s about his speed,” agreed Iris. “And even at that, it’s already been done.”
“Of course. How could an ignorant newcomer like him recognize what’s trite or trifling?”
“It’s you has-beens that are trite. It takes a newcomer like me to think up something new, and a brain like mine to figure out how to do it!”
“If your brain has figured it out,” said Pakht, “we know it’s petty, however much you boast, because you are petty.”
“Petty? Do you realize that I could incite my followers to destroy the whole world if I wanted to? You old fools may have wrecked a few nations with your earthquakes and floods and plagues, but you never had masses of nuclear weapons you could set off.”
“Is that what you intend? Has it occurred to your vaunted brain that if you destroy Earth, you won’t have a playground left? Or any mortals to worship you? Even the war gods haven’t got that carried away, and they’re about as mindless as any deity yet created.”
“Of course I’m not going to set them off. But I could. That’s real power. You think of that while you’re struggling just to survive.”
Pakht smiled. “According to you, we won’t be able to spare the energy to think about anything but that survival.”
“Not on Earth. But you’ll scurry back to Allhome, if you live long enough to get back. Now stop wasting my time. You want this bet or don’t you? Log on or zap out!”
Pakht tilted her sleek dark head upward. “Recording angel!”
The same winged figure popped into view, this time fully equipped, but no happier than before. “Oof! Are you guys all crazy? What’s with this microworld? Don’t you ever give a guy notice?”
“Never mind the complaints. Record!”
The angel sighed. “Yes, ma’am. What is it this time?”
“Terms of a challenge.” Carefully and fully, she gave the details, concluding, “...If we spoil or expose or counteract Hacker’s little plot, which he must declare to you today... “
“On sealed record,” put in Hacker.
Pakht nodded and went on, “...or hold him off from completing or reinstalling it by the end of our ten-day visit to Earth, we win.”
Hacker cut in again. “And if my chaos conditions are thriving at the end of that time, you lose the bet and your lives.”
“Hoo, boy!" murmured the angel. “Haven’t had a death-duel up here since mortals stopped burning each other over religion and switched to ideology killings.”
Pakht ignored both of them and went on. “...none of us being allowed to use Allhome facilities during this time — “
“I said you couldn’t!” objected Hacker.
“Do you mean that you need that assistance, even though we don’t?” Pakht’s eyebrows were eloquent.
“Of course not!”
“Then — ?”
“Oh, let it run.”
Pakht completed her meticulous recounting of conditions.
“Okay, got it.” The angel, slewing his camcorder, asked each person in turn, “So be it?”
“So be it,” each repeated.
“Done. What a gig. Think I’ll get a bet or two down myself, with the other RAs, and see if I can win me some extra off-duty time, so I can watch more Earth shows. Er, educational stuff, of course.” He hastily popped out.
A moment later he jumped back in again. “Hey, if you guys want anything more recorded on this bet, call for me personally. I want to be the first to know everything.” When no one asked, he added pointedly, “My name’s Dace.” He looked smug. “It means ‘of the nobility.’ Pretty nifty, huh?” When he still got no response, he sighed and said, “Okay, I’ll go through channels, and apply for one of the watches over your compliance. Be seeing you.” He departed again, with a crestfallen half-hearted pop.
Not bothering to say goodbye or to repeat the theatrics of his arrival, Hacker also vanished.
Chapter 3
Wait to see which way the cat jumps. — English folk saying
“What are we going to do?” asked Iris. As the excitement of confrontation faded, she began to feel overwhelmed by the challenge set for them. “Should we rush down to Earth, so we can start our stay and our hunt before Hacker can get any further on his Project?”
Pakht shook her head, her silky dark hair swinging gently. “That’s the third thing we’ll do.”
“What’s first and second?”
“First, we finish this tour. If we’re going to be dealing with computers, I had better know as much as I can learn about them.”
“That flies with me. And next?”
“We use a little ancient lore that Hacker probably won’t even think of: we consult an oracle. Your people had some good ones, did they not?”
“I question your use of the word good. An oracle’s about as trustworthy as a half-wiped hard drive. They never really tell you what’s going to happen, only what looks good in hindsight.”
“As long as there’s free will in the universe, no one can tell the future with certainty.”
“Spot on. Even the Fates can only connive. They get thwarted now and then.”
“But they do connive. And they are said to hate hubris, which Hacker has in abundance. So they could well be creating possibilities for his defeat. It may not have been entirely chance that led you to consult me. When you walked at random, The Fates may have seized the chance to subtly lead you here, to start a chain of circumstances they have planned. The oracle can’t predict the final result, but she could give us hints on useful strategies.”
“If we can figure out what she means. Many’s the bozo who defeated himself by misreading an oracle’s output.”
“In the stories I’ve heard, the misreading was usually caused by arrogance.”
“Yeah, like the king who was told if he went to war he’d destroy a great nation, and ended up deleting his own.”
“So if we approach the oracle with humility, and ask for guidance, not for knowledge of the future, and if The Fates are well-disposed toward our enterprise, it’s possible we’ll get a little help.”
“Which we could sure do with. Ah — no offence to your abilities, Pakht. I’m just thinking of the odds Hacker has piled on his side, especially all that manna.”
“He has advantages, certainly. That’s why we should use the few he won’t think of, or will scorn to use, as too old-fashioned.”
“Right on. Okay, let’s have a shot at it, and hope we don’t get shot by it.” And also hope, thought Iris, that we can achieve that humility bit, a trait cats are not notorious for. She hoped her own insecurity might make up for Pakht’s assurance of divine right.
The goddesses quickly completed their tour of the computer and returned to Pakht’s sunny terrace. Iris called up a list of surviving oracles and scrolled it up the screen. After a moment she went back to the Cs. “Cleonike. A bit of a weirdo, as I recall, but she’s got a good rep on accuracy. And her name means beautiful victory, which could be a favorable omen in itself.”
“Not necessarily. Remember that king in your story.”
“It wouldn’t be a beautiful victory if it were Hacker’s. Resounding, outstanding, triumphant, anything grandiose. He’s too mean-spirited to have a victory that could be called beautiful.”
Pakht smiled. “There wouldn’t be any bias in your view of him? But I must agree that he lacks all elegance. And perhaps The Fates have made that name catch your eye.”
Iris keyed a map of Allhome onto her screen. “I put an auto-updating utility on my mapping program, but haven’t really needed it. The deities don’t move their palaces around much now that most of them are weak.” She typed “Cleonike’s Shrine” into the search window, and the view zoomed in.. “On Lake Hope. That’s not far from here; but let’s teleport. I’m too keyed up to dally.”
Pakht hesitated a moment. “I find anything that uses large amounts of manna tends to be a little unreliable these days. I thought it was my own control that had dwindled, but perhaps...”
“Yeah, everything’s a bit wonky. Plenty of power still floating around, but lots of glitches in the programming, when we try to apply that power. Well, we won’t get that shook up in a short hop. Come on, I’ll lead.”
They made the move safely, although Pakht arrived a little ruffled. She took the time to smooth her hair and shake her dress free of a momentary cling. Iris, more accustomed to handling the erratic power of modern Allhome, came through undisturbed, and led the way toward the oracle’s shrine, a building with marble columns and friezes, sited behind a small maze of open atria filled with flowers, shrubs, and little fountains.
“Are oracles under your new patronage?” Pakht asked, as they threaded their way through the greenery.
“No, they don’t qualify as real communicators. They used to be attached to assorted gods, but now that they’ve got a union, they’re independent.”
“Is it required that we approach as mortals would, with gifts and signs of respect?”
“No, that’s just the trappings the mortal priests used to demand. Cleonike’s a bit much, but she’s figured out that she needs to be useful to stay alive. Politeness is all she asks for.”
“A bit much?”
“Since video filtered into Allhome, she’s become a fan of early Hollywood epics, and decided it’s Romantic to be an oracle.” Iris gestured at the stately marble building. “No more sitting in a dim and cramped little shelter, breathing the smoke of burning laurel leaves. Well, you’ll see.”
Beyond the Ionic columns of the entranceway was a vaulted arch from a different millennium, but executed in the same white marble. The reception hall of the shrine was large enough to fill a sound-stage. Its floor and vaulted ceiling were also of white marble. Its walls were hung with tapestries depicting medieval European and Oriental scenes. From artistically placed cracks between marble blocks, golden mist ascended, and eddies of air brought whiffs of sandalwood, pine, and roses, in turn. A number of carved and scrolled ebony divans were positioned to lead the eye toward the dais where the oracle herself, draped in flowing white chiffon spangled with diamonds and pearls, reclined on a gilded, red-silk-upholstered chaise longue, watching a TV screen discreetly mounted in a marble pillar, where it did not spoil the theme or lines of the setting. Behind her, black silk draperies formed a non-distracting background.
“Greetings, Cleonike,” said Iris. “We are — “
“Pakht the Cat and Iris the Rainbow,” interrupted the oracle smugly.
Iris muttered, “She can bring up a database on that screen, too.” Aloud, she went on, “We’re about to undertake a dangerous mission, and we’ve come for your invaluable advice.”
“Oh, yes,” said Cleonike languidly. “Your altercation with Hacker.” There was distaste in her voice as she pronounced the name.
“You’ve heard about it, then?”
“Who has not? It’s the main topic of gossip today.”
“Can you help us?” Pakht’s voice was soft as a purr, and her look was the one a stray kitten gives a tender-hearted future house companion.
The oracle’s hauteur
melted. “Of course I can. I’ve already asked The Fates about it,
in case you — I mean, to be ready when you came to consult
me.” She flicked a control and her screen became a tele-prompter.
“Here are your instructions. Addressed to you, Iris, since you
initiated the matter. Ahem.” Her voice rose to orator’s
projection:
“When ethereal realms you leave,
Color unto
color cleave;
Rainbow, touching Earth and sky,
In their blend
you may rely.
“Mate of color, dragon-kin,
Hunter of
wrong’s origin,
Second-born is second sought.
Trust the
sturdy cybernaut.
“Knowledge, instinct, courage, flair,
Keep
beside you everywhere;
Be a light to eye of moon.
Lead, and
follow, night or noon.”
Iris sighed. “Any chance of a hard copy of that?”
“Sure.” The oracle pressed another button, and a sheet of paper shot out of a slot in the front of her dais.
Pakht caught it with instinctive speed and sureness, and she and Iris re-read the three verses.
“In view of the situation,” remarked Cleonike, “to wit, one upstart punk god who’s thumbing his nose at all our old traditions, not to mention at all us old-timers, The Fates have decreed a special dispensation in this case. You’re allowed to make a few guesses about the oracle. I can’t volunteer much information, but I can give you a few yeses and noes.”
“Good!” muttered Iris. “As communication, oracles do leave something to be desired.”
“Well!” sniffed Cleonike, flouncing a little. “We do have a tradition to keep up, you know.”
“Yes, of course,” said Iris hastily. “I was just remarking on the reason oracles are out of my field. Beyond my ability,” she added diplomatically.
“Of course.” Cleonike seemed mollified, but fished for a little more of the soothing praise. “It takes great psychic talent to see future possibilities, and pick out the best one to recommend.”
Iris poured it on. “And you have poetic talent, too.” and added to herself, If you’re among the idiots who count being obscure as poetic,.
Pakht ignored all this, studying the printout. “Rainbow, cleave unto color. Rely on their blend,” she translated. “So you are to search for something outside yourself that relates to color, and use it.”
“Good start,” said Cleonike, nodding.
“But I can make nothing of the second verse.” Pakht’s eyes narrowed in concentration.
“This color we’re to look for is somehow associated with computing,” Iris interpreted. She glanced at the oracle and got a second nod. “In the third verse...’eye of moon’ could be a poetic reference to you, Pakht. It looks as if The Fates are saying we need to work in partnership. You may have been right about my having been guided to you.”
Pakht nodded in turn and then looked back at Cleonike. “Are we permitted to know anything more?”
“Well, not really. Still, since you, Pakht, aren’t up to date on the changes that have taken place in our relationship with Earth, it might be merely courteous to mention that, nowadays, if you want to accomplish something large-scale on Earth, you need to involve some mortals in your scheme. Just a general observation, of course, a non-prophesy sort of advice. Not breaking any obscurity rules, you understand.”
Pakht looked a little a little taken aback by this information, but said, “Thank you. We’ll keep it in mind.”
“I’m not allowed to wish you good luck, so I’ll just say that I’ll be watching with interest.”
Dismissed, the two goddesses bowed their thanks and took their leave. Outside, Pakht asked, “Is this true, that we now need mortal help when we’re on Earth?”
“For anything that’s likely to have a widespread effect on a culture. People no longer believe that all authority comes from the top down, and we’re affected by their beliefs and disbeliefs. Of course we can still do things on a personal level, but to affect a noticeable segment of any society, we have to involve mortals, to give us a sort of nominal consent.”
“Nominal is enough?”
“That’s all most of their rulers have. After getting elected, they just go ahead and do as they please, unless they outrage so many people that they rouse a rebellion.”
“But our struggle with Hacker is on a personal level. So Cleonike was really hinting that our success depends on our obtaining the assistance of some selected mortals. I wonder what sort of aid they can give us? Or are they merely to provide that nominal consent?”
“No, she did specify particular ones, in the verse. We have to recruit a pair of humans, who are somehow tied in to color and computers.”
“Yes, but that may be merely a way of identifying the ones The Fates saw in a pathway that could be successful for us. It could be that following that pathway is the important factor.”
“You got a point,” Iris conceded. "So, do we start looking for artists who are also hikers?”
“Hikers — Those are the anti-hackers you mentioned before?”
“Yeah, the term caught on to mean the creative computer users who get their kicks from finding ways to make their systems work better, and from hunting down the — ” Iris grinned — “the rats in the data-storage bins, who destroy and befoul what nourishes the users. Hikers were once called hackers, too, but that word came more and more to mean the destructive types, so it fell out of favor with the good guys.”
“Yes, so you told me.”
Iris went back to the problem of their search. “Nearly everybody uses computers nowadays, but there’s a difference between being a user and being a hiker. I don’t think many artists would go beyond using. De-bugging the programs would take up too much of their time and attention. So are we going to have to look for one specific person out of millions of artist-users?”
“The color association may have nothing to do with artists. It could refer to someone who makes cloth or furniture, for instance.”
“Yeah, or some biologist who studies color-vision. Or maybe it’s a new computer term I haven’t heard yet. Leaving us still with a whole world to search through.”
“I am encouraged by the evidence that The Fates are taking a hand in the matter. That means that any random decisions we make have a good chance to be the right ones.”
“You want us to bet our lives on coin flips?”
“Of course not. Deliberate actions always have more force than chance ones, and Hacker will be taking planned action against us. Though not immediately, perhaps.”
“Why not?”
“He’ll be busy trying to get his Project ready. He’ll want to make sure it’s in operation before the expiry of our bet, so he can gloat over our failure to stop it. Once he completes that, he’ll have more time to think up nasty little tricks to play on us.”
“Don’t you think he’ll have a go at us right away, even while he’s working on his Project? He’s a mischief god, after all. It’s in his nature to be nasty.” Iris looked worried.
“I don’t think he’ll pay much attention to us at first, unless we irritate him. He’ll be hoping to be able to say that, unlike him, we can’t cope with today’s Earth, and will have to flee back to Allhome — ”
“Fleeing wouldn’t do me much good. I’d sooner die fighting whatever Earth can pitch at us than throw in the towel and let Hacker strip me of manna. Whatever happens, I’m sticking it out.”
“I will stay also. It is not in my nature to allow vermin to run uncontrolled. But Hacker may not realize our determination. And since one of his most outstanding characteristics is vanity, he will believe what is most flattering to him: first, that we cannot survive in a milieu where he can; second, that if we do survive, we won’t be able to uncover his plot; third, that if we should stumble upon it, we will not be able to get through his safeguards and interfere; and finally, that if we do somehow get that far, that he can easily out-think and defeat us, even at the last minute.”
Iris nodded. “Yeah, I think you’ve got him pegged. Most hackers get caught because they’re so vain and over-confident. So what do we do? See if we can goose him into a showdown?”
“Not unless the success of his project seems imminent. Until then, delay serves us as well as him. Remember, once we have joined battle, we must hold him pinned down until after the trial period.”
“So we lie low and wait?”
“Not quite. We remain under cover, but we must also scout to find out what Hacker is doing. Until we know that, we’ll be hunting blindly.”
“And how do we hunt?”
Pakht said thoughtfully, “Hacker’s boasts suggest that he plans to make some major change to an Earth society, or even the whole of the population. To have an effect that great, he will have to operate through at least one mortal.”
“Right on. The more cultural re-shaping he wants to do, the more he has to manipulate mortals into doing for him.”
“So we need to do two things. Identify his chief mortal agent or agents, and enlist the humans who are to help us. Perhaps what our own agents can do for us is to locate his. They will be, after all, far more familiar with current Earth society than even you, Iris.”
“Yeah, I’ll buy that. Things can change pretty fast between my visits to Earth. Technology has a way of sneaking in unthought-of changes in society. But where do we start looking? Color and computers are everywhere.”
“We must combine logic and chance, allowing The Fates to guide us into the correct path.”
“So what does logic say? That we plunge into a hotbed of computer innovation, to make that connection? One of the manufacturing centers? Or a university?”
Pakht frowned. “I think not. Too concentrated. And the computer connection was specified to be found through the color one. What we need is a location where chance will bring us into contact with some of your followers, the hikers, who will be predisposed to help us, even if they don’t yet realize they are your people.”
“Which they don’t. Mortals today think that worship is nothing but going through traditional rites. Most of them actually worship Dollar, or other gods of power and prestige, but they don’t recognize that they are worshiping. They don’t believe that the gods that their worship has called into being, actually exist.”
“Their worship must be strong indeed, if it supports newly established gods against active disbelief in their existence.”
“Which points out a problem we’re going to have, when we try to recruit agents. I’ve always been okay on Earth before, because I could pose as a human easily enough. I’ve even set up several homes and businesses there, so I could do my field studies in comfort. No sweat. I didn’t have to tell anyone anything about myself. I just inserted the proper records in all the proper networks. But getting mortals to help against another god may be a different matter. Suppose it reaches the point where we have to tell them something, or where there’s evidence we can’t conceal, about who we are or what we’re after? The moment the suspicion comes up, bingo, their disbelief is going to knock us into yesterday. If we lose our cover, we could be dead long before Hacker takes a hand.”
Chapter 4
A cat’s rights take second place to no one.— William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
Pakht shrugged. “Concealment is part of the hunt. If it fails, you starve. So we must be careful to retain our camouflage on this hunt.”
Easy enough to say, Iris thought. She hadn’t really thought much about it, and had assumed it would be simple. What else had she forgotten to consider? “Suppose our aides do manage to spot Hacker’s agents for us, but get spotted themselves. We could end up with a little war. And since it’s our duty to protect our followers, we could spend all our time and power slashing down Hacker’s army, and never get to him.”
“I suspect that most of Hacker’s mortals will be commercial hirelings fully occupied in setting up his Project, whose nature they will probably be completely unaware of. They will make a very unconsolidated army, with neither understanding of their Cause nor personal devotion to their leader. And if Hacker removes them from the Project, he defeats his own ends. He won’t be able to complete his Project without them. So I think we need not consider them.”
“But Hacker will have assorted managers and supervisors, who will know more about the Project, and may have personal commitments to it.”
“I doubt if Hacker will allow them to know the exact nature of the Project. Since it is intended to be harmful to human society, it must be kept secret, and a secret widely shared is soon revealed. And, again, Hacker must keep them at their work to complete his Project on time, or lose his chance to win the bet. So he can’t use any of his regular servitors to attack us. He would have to hire mercenary soldiers or criminals, and even with limited manna, I am not worried about such petty people.”
“Well, I am. He could send a pack of thugs against our pair of aides,” Iris warned.
“Consider Hacker’s vanity. Sending a large group against our few would be to admit fear of us. He might try using a secret assassin, but not until he is worried, I think. At first, it will be a long stalk, as our aides try to find his. Once they have done so, we can send ours away. Hacker must keep at least one mortal assistant, because he is trying to change society, but we are trying to prevent change, so we can surely act alone.”
“Not according to Cleonike’s oracle.”
“She did not say we need to keep our mortals with us throughout the hunt, only to use them to find the right hunting ground.”
“You’ve got a point there. But they may have to trace a bunch of major assistants. However many of Hacker’s mortals are just corporate fodder, some of them will have to be high enough up to see the shape of the Project, in order to be said to be genuinely involved in it. For all we know, they could be scattered around the globe, telecommuting to work.”
“Hacker’s vanity may well have led him to share his anticipated triumph with the minimum number of mortals necessary,” Pakht said. Perhaps only one, since you say that even a lone mischief-maker can do great harm through a computer network. If there are more, identifying one will surely lead to finding the rest, and the more there are, the busier Hacker will be in defending them, once we find them. Remember, much as Hacker wants to triumph over us, he values his Project even more. It might be sufficient for us to discover and threaten it, for he might decide to concede, by postponing it, rather than risk losing it altogether.”
“In your dreams. He’s insecure and a cheat. He’s more likely to try to weasel around the ban on using Allhome aid.”
“He has taken oath, and recording angels are monitoring the actions of all of us. If he breaks his oath, he forfeits his own existence.”
“Fat lot of good that will do,” snorted Iris, “if his followers immediately re-create him. The danger’s all on our side.” She added apologetically, “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this. I didn’t know you’d end up laying your life on the line, too.”
“Don’t be concerned. I was aware of the possibility. A cat risks death every time she hunts, for there are always bigger predators waiting whenever she goes forth. And who knows how much time I have left, anyway? We cats are also philosophical, however tenaciously we fight for our lives, and our comforts!” Pakht added with a smile. “Come, it’s a good thing to survey the territory before beginning the chase, but too long a hesitation lets the prey move off into other territory. Let’s begin our stalk.”
Iris sighed. “You’re right. There’s no way we can spot and allow for all our Earthly problems here and now. Let’s choose a destination and go grab the shuttle for Earth.”
“Shuttle? Why not just will ourselves there, as we used to?”
“To avoid using up personal manna. We could leave here on power from the common store, but we’d need our own to pinpoint our arrival, and once we’ve left here, the trial period starts, so it’s ration city for us. If we use the shuttle, we’re technically not out of Allhome till we step onto Earth. We’re fighting a weasel brain, so we’d better weasel every advantage we can for ourselves.”
Pakht nodded. “Even a single blade of grass can help camouflage your outline when you’re stalking or in ambush. But we will have to find sources of manna on Earth as quickly as possible. Will budgeting our manna affect how much we can use at a time?”
“No, but if we use up manna faster than our natural intake, we’re kaput. No more power than a mortal.”
“If we avoid using manna, we’ll be living like mortals anyway.”
“We can use enough to stay comfortable, just as long as we don’t push it till we find a source of supply. We can’t fight Hacker if we’re running on empty.”
“If his followers are such zealots as he claims, he must be absorbing a steady supply. Have we enough worshipers at the present time to supply us?”
“Well, you’ve got three sources. There are the people who love or admire cats, in a reasonable way. Not much manna per person, but a lot of people. Then there’s the Cat Fancy — breeders and show people. Smallish group, but intense. And then there’s the cat portion of the lunatic fringe. Buckets of manna each, but not many of them. And the energy they churn out gets blocked by the cat-haters in the same fringe.”
“I see. And you? You say nearly everyone on Earth is now a computer user, and many have smart-phones. Even if you are not fully established as their patron, there must be a trickle of manna coming to you from each of them, except the hackers, and it must be available everywhere.”
“Not exactly. I can tap a lot from hikers, when I’m near them, and there’s a steady flow from enthusiastic Net users. Their communications are what boosted me to major status in the first place. But all I get from the general computer users is the whiff of communication energy of the writers. Since most writers are just typing reports, there’s mighty little manna-creating worship there. And since I’m new in my position, I can’t yet gather much of all this undirected energy. Even the cell phone users are more intent on their constant chatting and their apps and their games than they are on the marvels of the communications device itself.”
“Hacker must be in the same position.”
“No, he was created as what he is. He isn’t a retread like me. Besides, his followers are all fanatics. Mine aren’t even all sure they like computers. They like computer games, but that manna goes to the Games gods.”
“Still, Hacker may not be as powerful as we thought. Moreover, he squanders manna on pranks. If we can build up our own manna, we may reduce the contest to a battle of wits.”
“Don’t forget how sneaky he is. Outwitting others is the main passion of his followers, so it’s built into his nature.”
“My nature is not entirely deficient in the outwitting field, either. But let’s get back to choosing a destination. I think our best strategy is to select a place where one or both of us can find followers, allowing some element of chance to influence us, to give The Fates room to maneuver.”
“Sounds good to me.” Iris considered. “Cats and computers can be found almost everywhere, but North America is probably the most networked, and probably has the most cat shows, too, which would be a good spot for you to tap followers. It’s also the area I’m most familiar with these days.”
She turned to the computer she had installed on Pakht’s terrace. “Tell you what. We’ll find out if there’s a cat show being held there right now. If there is, we’ll go to that city.”
“Good. That location is something that is already established, so it could easily be the start of the path The Fates chose for us. How do you find out about Earth without going there?”
Plying keys, Iris murmured, “I installed a survey system for Allhome use, but it’s too inclusive for what I want now. So I’m tapping into one of my business offices and doing a search on theInternet.”
Pakht nodded. “I recall your mentioning that you have businesses set up on Earth. Computer-related, I presume?”
“One set is. I’ve got a whole bunch of small chains. That’s so I don’t draw attention by size. They’re mostly called some variation of Rainbow Computer Consultants, and I’ve got offices in the big cities all over the world, and in lots of the smaller ones, especially in North America. My managers don’t realize that my presence gives everybody inspiration, but they do notice that whenever I drop in on an inspection, everything goes better, so they don’t resent my visits. And everybody makes enough money to stay happy.”
Pakht smiled. “A successful hunt and a full stomach encourages dozing in the sun instead of squabbling.”