Jack L. Chalker The Messiah Choice

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She nodded, although she realy didn't understand what he was talking about and
saw no purpose to research without any objectives in mind. She steered the
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conversation back to the library. All around there were small cubicles, or
carrousels, each with a computer terminal, a built-in high resolution color
screen that was so thin it hung on the back of the cubicle like a painting,
and a small desk used for note-taking. Hard copy could be had quickly if
desired, by simply instructing it to be done, although the actual printing was
done elsewhere and delivered to the individual involved. Only two large,
rather quiet faxes, sitting against a wall, were available to those in the
room, and those were generally used for printing out such things as morning
newspapers from around the world and the like.
She guided the chair expertly up to and in one of the cubicles as Sir Reginald
directed. He stood behind her but didn't try and switch anything on. She
looked baffled. "What do I do now?"
"Simply tell it to turn itself on. Whatever language you use for the
instruction will be the language for all data. It will guide you through the
rest if you simply talk to it."
She looked uncertainly at the console. Finally she said, "Turn on."
There was no discernible difference, and she wondered if she'd done it right.
Then she saw that the screen showed a small word in its center "READY!" When
she didn't respond for a few seconds, there was a sudden vanishing of the
letter, and a voice from the screen said, "Good morning. Miss Montagne. I am
SAINT. How may I be of service to you?" The voice was normal, very human, and
sounded something like a Shakespearean actor.
"He recognizes you through sensors and has checked you out and decided you are
authorized,"
Sir Reginald told her. "Let's say you want to look up something. Just ask him,
and he'll find it and either tell you or put it on the screen or print it out
as you instruct. If you're unsure of whether or not he has something, just
ask."
Her mind was blank. "Uh do you have a file on me?"
"Of course," SAINT replied. "There is a biographical sketch of you, lots of
subordinate files and evaluations, and a complete profile and medical history,
among other things. The total length, printed out in standard typewriter,
would be approximately four thousand two hundred and sixty single-spaced
pages. Would you like a copy or would you rather obtain more specific
information?"
"Um biographical sketch. On the screen, please, if it's not too long."
"Certainly. Just state when you wish to go to the next page."
And, just like that, up came a neat, formal-looking report on the large screen
looking just like a page from a large typeset book.
"I.think you've got it now," Sir Reginald told her. "If you'll pardon me,
there's a fellow rather insistently attempting to get my attention for some
minor emergency or something. When you're through just tell him so and leave.
If I may?"
"Yes, certainly," she said, happy to have him off her back. She proceeded to
read the file and found it uncannily accurate, including some incidents and
friends she herself had forgotten.
Clearly a lot of people were keeping a close eye on her. It went on and on,
but it finally finished with, in fact, her coming to the island and attending
her father's funeral. It was amazingly up-to-
date and she wasn't certain she liked it.
"Uh SAINT?"
"Yes, Miss?"
"You said my file ran thousands of pages. Is there a table of contents that
would let me see the topics in it?"
"Yes. Scrolling on the screen now."
She read off the amazing specifics, but finally halted it. "Give me the
Psychological Profile,"
she instructed. "Summary only."
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It made fascinating reading, and somewhat uncomfortable reading as well. It
accurately pinpointed her lifelong lack of a sense of roots, of belonging, and
suggested she had a strong need for a father or authority figure. Her IQ was
above the norm but she was hardly a genius. Reading and language skills far
above the norm but mostly within the past three or four years, when they were
the only ones available. Able to control or even fool people as to her true
feelings. Strong romantic and mystic streaks; emotionally immature. ... It was
strong stuff. It did, however, state that she was highly adaptable, practical
about her situation, including her disability, and had a logical and orderly
mind about things in which she was not emotionally involved.
Physiologically, she confirmed that Sister Maria had been right. But for the
fact that orders from her brain were not transmitted past a certain point in
her upper spinal column, her body was perfectly normal. The muscles were weak
from disuse, but showed, oddly, no signs of deterioration. All bodily organs
and functions were normal. She menstruated normally and was capable of
child-bearing, although, with no ability to push, she would require a
Caesarean. It concluded, as had the psychological, with the notation that
there was nothing that known medical science could find wrong with her, and
certainly no signs of dramatic injury anywhere in the spinal area. Both
concluded, "Disability almost certainly psychosomatic, but unresponsive to any
and all treatment."
Psychosomatic. She'd heard that many times before, but all she found in these
reports was more of that mumbo jumbo on how and why it might have developed,
none of which made much sense to her or hit any raw nerves. She was not
willing this on herself, no matter what they said.
She abandoned her own file, and looked up Greg's. She was pleased to discover
that he had been honest with her about his past. There was a lot more detail,
but nothing he'd told her was false. He was not a Catholic; he was, in fact, a
nominal Presbyterian without any real connection to a church at all. His
marriage had been a civil one, made in civil court, as was his divorce.
Oddly, although the Sisters back at the convent would have been upset, this
excited more than depressed her. A civil marriage was no marriage in the eyes
of the Church, and while non-
Catholics were allegedly the object of pity, there had been so few of them in
her life that she found the idea rather exotic. There was a photo of his
ex-wife in the file, and she was rather pretty, although not much like
Angelique herself. It was interesting to her, none the less.
His psychological profile, however, was far more general and shorter than
hers, and she had the strong feeling that much of it simply wasn't there,
almost as if it had either been excised or not put in the system deliberately.
Still, it was instructive. He had a fine, analytical mind, and a rather high
IQ, as those things went. He was tenacious, stubborn, and seemed to have
little regard for his own safety or well-being when in the course of a project
or an investigation. One psychologist noted, "Subconsciously, he either thinks
he's Sherlock Holmes or would like to be." He was attracted to pretty women,
and had never shown much interest in the acquisition of wealth and material
things. He also had a distaste for the upper class, a disrespect for any
authority not based upon merit as he saw it, and a strong streak of
insubordination.
She wanted very much to ask the computer whether or not someone like him could
ever be really interested in someone like her, but she did not. She wasn't
sure whether she thought it was too personal and revealing a question to ask
the computer or whether she didn't really want to know the answer.
"SAINT, do you have any information on the Dark Man?"
"Which dark man do you mean, Miss Montagne? There are quite a number."
"No, no. The one recently reported by superstitious people around the island
and elsewhere."
"Oh, you mean that one. There are no specific files, although Security might
have something, which would require their access codes. I wouldn't know, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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