Inherit the Earth - Brian Stableford [137]
“But that, according to Saul, is only the beginning. As below, he says, so above. Give him gantzers powerful enough and a few hundred years, and he’ll change the faces of Mars and Venus. Every asteroid in the belt will be an egg patiently awaiting gantzing sperms to transform it into a star-traveling monster, bigger than a thousand arks and infinitely more comfortable. Only give them the time, he says, and the owners of Earth will give the whole universe to the rest of us. Only give them time, and they’ll show us what ownership really can mean, by demonstrating that there is no matter anywhere which needs to be considered inert or useless. Only give them time, and they will bring the entire universe to life—and all they ask in return is Earth, their own precious corner, their own legitimate heritage.
“That’s what Frederick Gantz Saul offered Conrad Helier, in exchange for effective ownership and control of para-DNA. That’s what he must have offered your employers in order to bring them meekly into line. It’s what he’ll offer everyone who ever looks as if they might be getting out of line—but I’d be willing to bet that he’ll always be prepared to show them the stick before offering the carrot, just to make sure that he has their full attention. So what I need to know, Dr. Data Analyst, is: is it true? Or is it, perhaps, just a clever line of patter, intended to defuse all opposition to a state of affairs that puts Saul and his friends in almost total control of what might—so far as we know for sure—be the only world there is or ever will be.”
“And you want an honest opinion?” Rachel Trehaine challenged him. “My honest opinion, as an individual rather than an employee of the Ahasuerus Foundation.”
“If you think I’ve given you enough in exchange,” he said, “I’d be very grateful.”
“Unfortunately,” she said, “you’ve already put your finger on the root of the problem. However expert we may be as data analysts, we can’t possibly know for sure how good our extrapolations are. Only time will tell whether Saul’s promises can be redeemed. In the meantime, they’re pie in the sky. On the other hand, what other choice have you got? If you don’t buy into his dream, all you have is the prospects of a teenage streetfighter permanently engaged in a rebellion he can’t win. If you don’t want to work directly for PicoCon you can always join Eveline Hywood in Lagrange-Five, or make your way to whichever far-flung hidey-hole your father found for himself, but you know better than to think that they can continue to avoid toeing the line. They’re old enough to know better—and so are you.”
Damon had kept his eyes locked on hers while she delivered this speech, but he let them fall now.
“What did you expect me to say?” she asked him not unkindly. “What else could I say?”
“I thought I ought to make sure,” Damon told her, trying to sound grateful for her effort. “I didn’t know how far out of line Ahasuerus was. I suppose I was wondering whether there was something you knew that I didn’t, or something you might see that I’d missed—something which would put the matter into a less dismal light.”
“If Saul’s right,” she told him, “the light’s not dismal at all. You may not be able to have a substantial share in the earth, but how many people ever could? The point is that you—or your heirs—might still be able to claim a substantial share of the universe. For all his faults, Saul tells a hell of a story—and it might be true. Shouldn’t we at least hope that it is?”
“I suppose we should,” Damon admitted grudgingly.
Twenty-eight
M
adoc Tamlin went out onto the bedroom balcony and lifted his face to bathe in the light of the afternoon sun. The breakers tumbling over the shingle had just begun their retreat from the ragged line of wrack and plastic that marked the high tide. In the distance, he could see