Anthony, Piers Cluster 1 Cluster

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"There will be occasion," she repeated, like a nurse calming a distraught patient.
Flint let it drop for the moment. Tsopi knew him, and shared a bond with him that was evidently
important to her. Was she trying to tell him something? After the mannered intrigues of System
Capella, he was not surprised to find complications here in Sphere Polaris, but he was disappointed.
She showed him the way through the building. It reminded him strongly of its counterpart at Earth-
Prime, with its broad halls, high ceilings, forced-circulation air and lack of growing things. What was
there about civilization that made it so restrictive? Yet his host-mind informed him that this was
natural to Polarians, even pleasant; individuals of this species, like native Earthians, liked to be
massively enclosed by their architecture.
How did no-handed creatures manage to build such edifices? Again his memory provided the answer:
Polarians were adept at circular manipulation of objects and concepts. They did not carry building
blocks into place, they rolled building spheres into place. Where men laid bricks, Polarians rolled
stones. Where men hammered nails, Polarians squeezed glue. The end result was rather similar, as
though civilization shaped itself into certain configurations regardless of the sapient species invoking
it. Here there were no square skyscrapers, but domed dunes serving the same purpose.
They passed down a smooth ramp, where on Earth there would have been stairs. Of course; ramps
were better for wheels, stairs for legs. Ramps were everywhere, contributing to the fluidity of the
architectural design.
They had to roll single file, for efficient progress through the throng. Tsopi's trail just ahead of him
was sweet; she had a tantalizingly feminine taste.
Taste? Flint concentrated, and it came: Polarians laid down taste trails with their wheels, much as
humans laid down scent. No, more than that: These were actual, conscious signatures of passage, like
the trails of Earthly snails. He remembered the first snail he had seen, beside the huge water of the
ocean inlet, under the odd blue sky of Earth. Today he didn't even notice the color of the sky of a
given planet; sky was sky color, right for its world. But this taste; every Polarian was really a super-
bloodhound, sniffing out every other, all the time. It was the natural way. In fact, it was already
difficult to imagine how it could be otherwise.
"These are our power generators," Tsopi murmured against his hide, flinging back her tail in a very
fetching way. This mode of communication was pleasantly ultimate: touch and speech together. In
fact, Polarians were a togetherness species, expecting and requiring closer camaraderie than the
creatures of Sphere Sol. "Orbiting micro-satellites reflect half the sunlight passing near our planet into
our generators, and that fuels our matter transport system. Our remaining energy needs are met by-"
"The center of power," Flint said, rolling his own ball on her surface. My, this was fun! "The highest
Minister, Regent, ruler-"
"Big Wheel," she supplied. "He's really more of a coordinator, a converger of spirals. We don't have
your sort of-"
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"Whatever you call him: the one to whom I should report. He's in this vicinity?"
"Yes, the Wheel is here. But there is no-"
"I'm sorry if I affront your sensitivities," Flint said. "I like your company a lot, and do want to learn
about your Sphere. But my mission is of galactic importance. Business before pleasure." And he
broke away from her, dodging into the nearest crosshall.
"You do not understand," she buzzed against the floor, dodging after him. "With us, there is no
separation between-first there must be-"
But Flint, in any body, was adept at pursuit and eluding. He accelerated, getting the feel of his wheel-
and it was a good wheel, even though it was spherical. Tsopi could outspeed his human body on level
ground, but his mind in a healthy Polarian body was too much for her. He zipped around another
corner, shot across the ramp, and damped out his scent amidst a welter of tastes on a well-used trail.
In moments he had lost her, as surely as he had lost his pursuers on Luna, back three worlds ago. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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