Blood Music by Greg Bear Page A

Sounds kind of ominous, doesn’t it? I told Bernard. He seemed to think it was a good name—”
    Edward raised his arms in exasperation. “You don’t know what they’re going to do! You say they’re like a civilization—”
    “A thousand civilizations.”
    “Yes, and civilizations have been known to screw up before. Warfare, the environment—” He was grasping at straws, trying to restrain the panic that had been growing since he arrived. He wasn’t competent to handle the enormity of what was happening. And neither was Vergil. Vergil was the last person Edward would have called insightful and wise with regard to large issues.
    “But I’m the only one at risk,” Vergil said.
    “You don’t know that Jesus, Vergil, look what they’re doing to you!”
    “I accept it,” he said stoically.
    Edward shook his head, as much as admitting defeat. “Okay. Bernard gets Genetron to reopen the lab, you move in, become a guinea pig. What then?”
    “They treat me right. I’m more than just good ol’ Vergil I. Ulam right now. I’m a goddamned galaxy, a super-mother.”
    “Super-host, you mean.”
    Vergil conceded the point with a shrug.
    Edward felt his throat constricting. “I can’t help you,” he said. “I can’t talk to you, convince you, can’t help you. You’re as stubborn as ever.” That sounded almost benign; how could “stubborn” describe an attitude like Vergil’s? He tried to clarify what he meant but could only stammer. “I have to go,” he finally managed to say. “I can’t do you any good here.”
    Vergil nodded. “I suppose not. This can’t be easy.”
    “No,” Edward said, swallowing. Vergil stepped forward and seemed about to put his hands on Edward’s shoulders. Edward backed away instinctively.
    “I’d like at least your understanding,” Vergil said, dropping his arms. “This is the greatest thing I’ve ever done.” His face twisted into a grimace. “I’m not sure how much longer I can face it, face up to it I mean. I don’t know whether they’ll kill me or not. I think not. The strain, Edward.”
    Edward backed away toward the door and put his hand on the knob. Vergil’s face, temporarily creased with an agony of worry, returned to beatitude. “Hey,” he said. “Listen. They—”
    Edward opened the door and stepped outside, closing it firmly behind him. He quickly walked to the elevator and punched the button for the ground floor.
    He stood in the empty lobby for a few minutes, trying to control his erratic breathing. He glanced at his watch: nine in the morning.
    Who would Vergil listen to?
    Vergil had gone to Bernard; perhaps Bernard was now the pivot on which the whole situation turned. Vergil made it seem as if Bernard were not only convinced, but very interested. People of Bernard’s stature didn’t coax the Vergil Ulams of the world along unless they felt it was to their advantage. As Edward pushed through the double glass doors, he decided to play a hunch.
    Vergil lay in the middle of the living room, arms and legs cruciform, and laughed. Then he sobered and asked himself what impression he had made on Edward, or on Bernard for that matter. Not important, he decided. Nothing was important but what was going on inside, the interior universe.
    “I’ve always been a big fellow,” Vergil murmured.
    Everything
    —Yes, I am everything now.
    Explain
    —What? I mean, explain what?
    Simplicities
    —Yes, I Imagine if s tough waking up. Well, you deserve the difficulties. Damn very old DNA finally waking up.
    SPOKEN with other
    —What?
    WORDS communicate with *share* body structure *external* is this like *wholeness WITHIN* *totality* is EXTERNAL alike
    —I’m not understanding, you’re not clear.
    Silence inside for how long? Difficult to tell the passage of time, hours and days in minutes and seconds. The noocytes had screwed up his brain clock. And what else?
    YOU *interface* *stand BETWEEN* EXTERNAL and INTERNAL. Are they alike.
    —Inside and