03. Gods at the Well of Souls (46 page)

They winked out, and Nathan and Mavra were alone. "What did you do with them?"  she asked him. He adjusted the program and put her back into the matrix. Almost  immediately she became a smaller version of him. 

"At least the stool fits now," she said. She looked into the Well and traced Gus  and Terry and the as yet unnamed child to Czill. "Wow! Gus is nothin' to  complain about, is he? I may go to Czill myself!" 

"You can't. The only way out for us is back out into the universe." "Oh, yeah. But where'd you get that stud's picture from?" 

"Terry's mind. It's her idealized fantasy male." 

"I see you didn't make her any different." 

"No need. He loves her. She already is what he wants. Besides, she has  absolutely no competition." 

"You got that right." She sighed. "So here we are again, sitting here just like  before, doling out happy endings like some fairy tale and solving all the  problems of the universe except our own." 

"Seems like," he agreed. 

"Nathan-you're remaking all sorts of parts of this world, but you keep putting  our universe back the same old way again." 

"I can't help it. This world's easy. It was designed as a lab. All the controls  and instructions are available. But Mavra, I wouldn't have the first idea in the  cosmos of how to rework something as complex as an entire planetary civilization  and ecosystem, let alone all of them. It took the whole damned race working  together with this thing to do that. I'm a button pusher. If I can push a button  and do something or throw a switch or issue a command, that's fine. Even the  Kraang knew better than that. He was going to be god, but he needed disciples to  do his dirty work." 

She sighed. "I see. So it's back to that crummy old Earth again, is it? After we  fix up a few more things here?" 

"Pretty much. Now. we could go other places, of course, but there's no guarantee  they'd be any better. I tried it once, and it was worse, if you can believe it.  Don't think about all that past, either. Where we'll be going they'll have  electricity and aircraft and video and all sorts of stuff you haven't seen in  ages. It's still violent, and it's hardly close to perfect, but it'll do if you  watch your back. The same evil strain that shows up here sometimes shows up  there as well. Besides, it will be different this time in the long haul. The  Kraang's interference seems to have caused some rifts in the usual probability  program, at least for Earth, and I'm sure as hell not going to push the reset  over that!" 

"You mean-you don't know where things are going, either, this time?" "Not really. I was shocked at the changes in the Well World from last time. You  saw those streamlined Dillians, for example, and many of the others were equally  refined." 

"Yeah, so?" 

"They're evolving, Mavra. Changing. Becoming something newer, maybe better,  maybe worse, but different. Even here change is coming. Back on Earth-well, I no  longer know the specifics, but in general things will work out. There'll be  wars, and violence, and hatred, and drugs, and things we haven't even thought of  yet, but science is already on the fast track, technology is already running  wild. Eventually they'll pick up the pieces, put themselves together, and head  out for the planets and then the stars. They have to. It may take a while, but  we'll be a little more comfortable getting there. They already have women  captains of aircraft, so you've got some potential right off. It's no more or  less dangerous or risky than it was, but it's a damn sight more comfortable at  this stage." 

She sighed. "Well, okay, maybe. At least we can play for another tie, huh?  Accelerated change, everything, everywhere, even here. Everything and everybody  but us and this big old machine." 

"Well, somebody's got to be around to appreciate it. That's what's so damned  wrong with all this, all this time, I think. The worst possible sin happened to  me long ago, and I just couldn't deal with it." 

"The loneliness?" 

"No, even worse. This endless, unchanging perspective turned me from an artist  into a damned art critic!" 

She laughed. "You never told me what you did with Campos. I'm going to see."   

The Jungles of Eastern Peru 

JUANA CAMPOS WOKE UP AS IF FROM A DREAM AND SHOOK HER head as if to clear it.  She suddenly remembered what had happened and started, then sat up and checked  herself. 

She was still female, but she was human again! And, well, if she had to be a  woman, what a body! This figure was a killer; she knew that without having to  examine it further. 

She felt her face, and it seemed normal, too, not horrible or disfigured. Her  skin was smooth but copper-colored, and it looked rather nice. She got up, still puzzled that Brazil would have made her like this and looking  for the snake. There could be one here, that was for sure. It was jungle, dense  and deep, much like back home. 

She walked on a little way and then stopped and gasped. It was home! There was  the airstrip over there! And there the house where, as Juan Campos, she'd been  born! 

A truck full of her father's men roared toward the back end of the airstrip,  when somebody looked over in her direction and shouted. The truck stopped at  once, and suddenly they were all piling out, staring at her. 

"Ai! Would you look at that?' 

"That is the most stacked Indian bitch I ever seen!" 

"I think I'm in love! 

She didn't turn. She knew them all. Pablo, and Carlo, and Juan Pedro, and Pipito  Alvarez ... 

She started to shout to them, to tell them she was not what she seemed, but when  she opened her mouth, nothing came out! She tried again to shout, to talk, to  make any sort of sound, and she couldn't do it! She was mute! 

They started coming toward her, leering. 

Writing. Maybe something, anything! But how? And what to write? How did it go,  anyway? She couldn't remember! 

They were still coming, and now Carlo started into a running trot and the others  followed. No! No.' I'm Juan Campos, you fools! she wanted to shout, but nothing  came, nothing at all. 

Suddenly she was filled with panic. She turned and started to run back into the  forest, back to where she could hide. 

But she'd waited too long. They were too close, and she knew it. They already had their pants off by the time they caught her, and they took an  awfully long time, before they picked her up and took her back toward the  compound, exhausted, bleeding, and nearly unconscious. 

Hell, this bitch was good for the whole damned bunch of campaneros! With a  little more seasoning and discipline, why, she might last for monthsl Don  Francisco wouldn't mind. The only danger was that the old boy might take her for  himself! 

The Beach Near Cannes 

Mavra Chang came our of the water, happy but Exhausted, and looked around for  Brazil. It wasn't great yet, but this was definitely more like it! And with the  film festival only three weeks away, she could look forward to some real glamour  around. 

She spotted Brazil and still had to chuckle. Nathan Brazil, infallible god,  provider of happy-ever-after endings, always the same old stick-in-the-mud  himself. Wise as Solomon, ancient as history itself, always confident. For the first time in his five-plus billion-year life the great man had goofed.  A minor goof to be sure, but from her standpoint an absolutely perfect one. They'd spent the week redoing the hexes, adjusting, tinkering, fine-tuning,  trying to think of every little detail that they actually could do something  about. They'd taken several days to check it out and run simulations to ensure  that they'd gotten it right. 

Nathan had even remembered to send Lori the sleek, motorized camera and  reflecting telescope. 

Everything was just right. The Glathrielians were set on a new course with a  fine subtlety, the Ambrezans were going absolutely bananas but they'd ensured  that nobody would starve or die when all their high-tech stuff just stopped, and  Gus, who had not chosen to revert to form during his week's trial-and little  wonder-was settling in with Terry and little Nathan, a touch Brazil had loved. And finally, they'd gone down to the exit gate and set the positions and the  probability adjustments so that they would have real identities when they  materialized back on Earth in their base forms. Brazil had already stayed too  long as the Egyptian David Solomon, so he'd specified that a new identity be  created consistent with his base form and relative to Mavra, who, not wanting to  become a jungle goddess again, was getting an extensive identity makeover. It  was so automatic, he just did it without thinking, issuing the bare minimum  commands needed to accomplish the goal. 

"Well," said Nathan Brazil, "that's about it. We're actually in pretty fair  shape, although it's interesting that the Kraang's interference has put us on a  whole new historical track. Endless possibilities this time. Should be kind of  fun. No resets necessary, I guess. Not this time. Just go back, pick up living,  see how it all comes out. You ready?" 

Mavra Chang sighed. "I still haven't seen much to like on that little dirt ball,  but I'm open to persuasion. All right, Nathan. I think I like you better as a  human, anyway; you're a lot less like some pontificating god. I almost wish  sometime you'd make a mistake. Not a big mistake, mind, but some mistake. Just  enough to take a little of the wind out of those sails." 

Nathan Brazil chuckled. "Let's go home, Mavra." 

"Computer: open Well transfer type forty-one to native mode. Reset Watchers to  prior human form but create new identities this timeline and insert subjects ...  now!" 

Just one little detail ... 

While Nathan had remade his old, now mortal body into the image of Terry, he'd  forgotten that he was still inside the real Terry's body. The Well had simply  taken this rather than the old form as the default, since all shapes, forms,  races, and creatures were all the same to it, and Brazil's own instructions for  insertion had been to revert them to their "prior human form." And so Nathan Brazil had rematerialized back on Earth not as his eternal old  self but rather as a dead ringer for Terry Sanchez, stretch marks and all. And  he'd be stuck as a she, and looking precisely that way, until they had to travel  back to the Well World once more and could get inside. 

Although startled, Mavra was more than pleased to see her wish granted so  quickly. It wasn't necessarily permanent, of course; all Brazil had to do was go  back into the Well and change things. That, however, was easier said than done;  once in Watcher mode, travel to the Well World was at the convenience not of the  Watchers but of the Well. It had taken thousands of years for it to need either  of them the last time. Who could know how long it might take again? In the meantime, although she was sorry Nathan couldn't experience the more  negative side of being female in ancient times as she had, Brazil would sure as  hell have a very different life for quite a while, and into a future that was  not as certain as before. 

It almost made Brazil bearable this time. Mavra thought they might stay together  for a while, maybe a very long while, this time, now that Nathan would have a  taste of her side of life. In the meantime, Brazil was already struggling to  adapt, but given enough time, she would get used to it. She'd already played the  role to perfection, after all. And, she'd noted, there was a bright side. When  they came through again at last, nobody would be looking for a big-breasted  brown woman whose documents said she was Danielle Brazza of West Palm Beach,  Florida, USA, just as Mavra Chang was now from a city called San Francisco that  she'd never really heard of in a country she'd yet to visit. Next time should be  a piece of cake. 

And she had a very, very long time to practice ... 

A Dead World 

in the Constellation Andromeda 

The Kraang had realized the trap the moment he'd stepped into it, but by then it  was too late. 

He went out regularly and just stared at the Well Gate, which opened and closed  with monotonous regularity whenever he approached, as if inviting him to come on  in. 

It wasn't awful here; the internal planetary computer was rusty, but it still  worked, at least on the limited basis that the Kraang needed for his  requirements. 

But it was a dead, silent world, offering only regrets and memories. Somehow I'll do it! the Kraang swore. I will survive here as long as I must! As  long as the universe survives, I will be here, building my hatred, plotting my  revenge! One day, one day, I will find the way out! One day, someone will come,  or something will occur, to liberate me again! Then, my old nemesis, then we  will see who is the better! 

But only the darkness, and the memories, and the aching loneliness heard his  cries or felt his rage. 

He was God! Absolute ruler! 

God of loneliness! 

God of the dark.