38.  Search

Jayhawk lay along a diagonal strand of the CPU's internal webbing,
watching the play of light through the heart of her machine.  Her 
thoughts were clearest here, at the center; but the wealth of power
at her disposal also made painfully clear what she was lacking.  Memories,
mainly.  Breaking the links with the corridor-web had cost her all the
files she hadn't copied into her own storage, all the Paradisian history
--and it might have been valuable, ten years out of date though it was. 
But the distancing of her own memories was far more painful.  The 
information was there, or at least some of it was--her training, her 
experience as a decker, the vendetta against Montaigne Paradisio, her 
capture and what came of it.  But it was far off, mountains seen through 
clouds.  Distant as the sense of her own flesh when she'd been linked 
to the motorcycle but denied full connection.

She *needed* Caroline.  Methodically, she considered the resources of
the system, looked for ways to address that problem.

She couldn't force merger on Caroline, wasn't sure that she would if
she could.  She had only a vague sense of the disharmony her double had
described, the madness that waited for them if they tried to become one
again; but she believed her.  She'd seen the hunger in Caroline's eyes.

Could she--she winced at the thought, but pursued it anyway--could she
take Caroline's memory and understanding for her own use, without the
blending of personalities that would destroy them?  But the system
offered her no such resources.  It was easy enough to see that she could
kill Caroline--though she would die too--but she had no greater power
over her than that.

Distracted for a moment, she set a security daemon to watch the nodes
adjacent to the CPU.  *Tell me if she approaches.*

Almost at once Caroline spoke to her, across a channel she had not
realized existed--not the normal procedures of the machine.  *You don't
have to do that.  I'll warn you if I come anywhere near.*  The inward
voice was more than a little hurt.

She hesitated for just a moment, terminated the daemon.

Overwatch.  Her actions were being continuously monitored.  It was
disturbing, almost as disturbing as the un-memory of Caroline in the
CPU.  It seemed to Jayhawk that her time to find a solution was limited.
Sooner or later the denial of control would drive Caroline to do something 
rash.  Dare the Lefty code, probably, hoping she could master it.  That
had to be prevented if at all possible.

Perhaps the best approach was to work on the simpler problems first,
like regaining contact with the Matrix.  Perhaps Caroline would have
some insight into the question of their separation.  Though it irked 
Jayhawk to admit it, she suspected the other had more resources for
addressing such problems than she did.

*Caroline.  I'm going to work on a probe, something to send out looking
for other systems.  I'll be in workroom 2-2.*

*Coming.*

While Caroline sat on a workbench, swinging her legs, and made
occasional helpful comments, Jayhawk began constructing a device to
search their enigmatic surroundings.  A quick experiment showed that it
had better be tethered to them; she couldn't punch a signal through the
greyness without tremendous effort.  Her handiwork took the form of a
silvery sphere, a rotating viewpoint within it, connected to the machine
by a fine silver cord.  Remembering the accounts of "creatures" from the
Paradisian notes on the Overnet, she made the cord deliberately fragile.
Breakable, if something should seize on it.  She was not totally
convinced she believed in Overnet monsters--not monsters worse than the
Paradisians, in any case--but it seemed a reasonable precaution.

"Could you make it so I could use it?"

Jayhawk shook her head.  "I could, but it would be a *lot* harder.
Let's see if this works, first, before we spend that kind of programming
time."

"Could you give me access to the datastores, then?  And some kind of
word processor?  I want to work on a message for Yoichi, if we manage to
get a transmission out."

After a little consideration, Jayhawk created a daemon with permissions
enough to do what Caroline wanted, call up other daemons if need be.  It
diluted her power a little, but it seemed safer....In occasional
glances, between stages of her programming, she watched Caroline pull
together a technical report.  Neatly labelled sections:  Paradisian
personnel.  HQ maps.  Data on the Overnet.

After a while she saved that file, started on another.  She got as far
as "Dear Yoichi" several times, but not much further.  Jayhawk didn't 
envy her the problem...how to explain what had happened, that she was 
alive but would never come back to them?

When the construct was done she said to Caroline, "Want to go fishing,
see what we catch?  I'd do better at this from the CPU, so maybe you
want to be in the SAN, keep an eye out there."

"Sure!" said Caroline fiercely.  Jayhawk teleported them both--
regretted it, when she saw Caroline's expression afterwards--and they
installed the probe in the SAN of their private area.  Caroline sat on
the filigree bridge, staring out into the grey nothing of the Overnet.
"Jay--" she said as if the word pained her.  "Can you whip up some
attack code for me?  Just in case?"

"Done."  Caroline drew the silver hilt from her belt, watched the
blade elaborate itself, a shimmer of electric blue crystal, alive with
power.  Abruptly she thrust it back, extinguishing it.  Her face was
set.

With misgivings that she could find no way to address, Jayhawk returned
to the CPU, tentatively extended her consciousness out into the probe.
She could see Caroline, weirdly distorted by the shape of the viewpoint,
lying belly-down on the bridge, booted feet twined into its supports, as 
if she was afraid to fall off.

She extended the probe outwards, caught a glimpse of the entire system,
spread out before her almost as if in overwatch.  Turned away with an
effort, faced the greyness.

Out and out.  It was hard to judge her movement with no reference, but
when she looked back along her trail she could see only the silver cord.
She'd made it as long as she easily could--it was hard, supporting a
process so far from the machine.

Something stirred at the distorted edge of her field of vision.  She
rolled the viewpoint about, succeeded in making it come clear.  It was a
cockroach.  An enormous cockroach, walking nonchalantly across the
surface of the sphere.  She tried to draw back, caught herself just in
time before losing control of the probe altogether.  A cockroach?  Out
here?  

She turned the viewpoint back toward the system, let out a yell.  The
silver cord was plastered with the heavy brown bodies, twisting round it
in masses sometimes three or four deep.  She'd built no audio, but she
almost fancied she could hear the soft rustling of their movements.

*Caroline!  Watch out for cockroaches in the SAN!*  With a thought she
destroyed the probe, viewpoint winking out like an old-fashioned tridee
picture.

*Cockroaches?*  In a brief glimpse, she saw Caroline standing at the
very edge of the grey, next to the now-empty spool that had tethered the
probe, blade in hand.  She felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness.
Without the system's power, Caroline was so vulnerable, and so
precious....

Apparently she'd cut the cord in time, before anything could crawl along
it to the SAN.  But it was some time before they were sure nothing was coming, 
and could go back to their various pursuits--Jayhawk to making another probe, 
and Caroline to drafting and redrafting her letter.

--

     Dear Yoichi:

     The information in this packet comes from the files of Montaigne
     Paradisio, and from what I was allowed to see; it's the best I
     know, but remember that they might have lied.

     I have been their prisoner, and I do not know if I am free yet.
     Perhaps someday we'll be able to meet again, but for now it seems
     best that I not compromise your mission.  You should bear in mind
     that anything I knew, they may know now.

     I wish you the best of luck.  I miss you very much.

     Jayhawk Davies

--

"Do you think he'll believe it?" said Jayhawk softly, looking up from
her work.

Caroline shook her head unhappily.  "How could he?  I'm not even sure 
this is worth sending.  Knowledge from nowhere....*I* wouldn't believe
it.  It's a Paradisian trap for sure.  But I have to try.  Have to give
them *something*...."  She made a fist, beat it softly on the glassy
surface of the workbench.

She wants to leave, Jayhawk realized suddenly; she feels like a prisoner
here.  And, hard on the heels of that insight:  I don't.  I'm not sure I
*could* leave; and I have no desire to.  This is where I belong.

It's no wonder we would go mad.

--

Copyright 1991 Mary K. Kuhner