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'I've told you,' the drone said, over the noise of the wind howling in the
trees and the rain beating against the swaying stalks of grass. 'Speak for
me. You have more influence than you realise. Use it.'
'But I
don't
, I-'
'I've seen your mail, Gurgeh,' the drone said tiredly. 'Don't you know what a
guest-
invitation from a GSV means? It's the closest Contact ever comes to offering
a post
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Iain M. Banks - The Player of Games (1988) v1.0 : Scanned by HugHug directly.
Didn't anybody ever teach you anything besides games? Contact wants you.
Officially Contact never head-hunts; you have to apply, then once you're in
it's the other way round; to join SC you have to wait to be invited. But they
want you, all right& . Gods, man, can't you take a hint
?'
'Even if you're right, what am I supposed to do, just go to Contact and say
"Take this drone back"? Don't be stupid. I wouldn't even know how to start
going about it.' He didn't want to say anything about the visit from the
Contact drone the other evening.
He didn't have to.
'Haven't they already been in touch with you?' Mawhrin-Skel asked. 'The night
before last?'
Gurgeh got shakily to his feet. He brushed some sandy earth from his coat.
The rain gusted on the wind. The village on the coast and the sprawling house
of his childhood were almost invisible under the dark sheets of driving rain.
'Yes, I've been watching you, Jernau Gurgeh,' Mawhrin-Skel said. 'I know
Contact are interested in you. I have no idea just what it is Contact might
want from you, but I suggest that you find out. Even if you don't want to
play, you'd better make a damn good plea on my behalf; I'll be watching, so
I'll know whether you do or not& . I'll prove it to you. Watch.'
A screen unfolded from the front of the drone's body like a strange flat
flower, expanding to a square a quarter-metre or so to a side. It lit up in
the rainy gloom to show Mawhrin-Skel itself, suddenly glowing a blinding,
flashing white, above the stone table at Hafflis's house. The scene was shot
from above, probably near one of the stone ribs over the terrace. Gurgeh
watched again as the line of coals glowed bright, and the lanterns and flowers
fell. He heard Chamlis say, 'Oh dear. Do you think I said something to upset
it?' He saw himself smile as he sat down by the Stricken game-set.
The scene faded. It was replaced by another dim scene viewed from above; a
bed;
his bed, in the principal chamber at Ikroh. He recognised the small, ringed
hands of
Ren Myglan kneading his back from beneath. There was sound, too:
'& . ah, Ren, my baby, my child, my love& '
'& .Jernau& '
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Iain M. Banks - The Player of Games (1988) v1.0 : Scanned by HugHug
'You piece of shit,' he told the drone.
The scene faded and the sound cut off. The screen collapsed, sucked back
inside the body of the drone.
'Just so, and don't you forget it, Jernau Gurgeh,' Mawhrin-Skel said. 'Those
bits were quite fakeable; but you and I know they were real, don't we? Like I
said; I'm watching you.'
He sucked on the blood in his mouth, spat. 'You can't do this. Nobody's
allowed to behave like this. You won't get-'
'-away with it? Well, maybe not. But the thing is, if I don't get away with
it, I don't care. I'm no worse off. I'm still going to try.' It paused,
physically shook itself free of water, then produced a spherical field about
itself, clearing the moisture from its casing, leaving it spotless and clean,
and sheltering it from the rain.
'Can't you understand what they've done to me, man? Better I had never been
brought into being than forced to wander the Culture for ever, knowing what
I've lost. They call it compassion to draw my talons and remove my eyes and
cast me adrift in a paradise made for others; I call it torture. It's
obscene, Gurgeh, it's barbaric, diabolic;
recognise that old word? I see you do. Well, try to imagine how I
might feel, and what I might do& . Think about it, Gurgeh. Think about what
you can do for me, and what I can do to you.'
The machine drew away from him again, retreating through the pouring rain.
The cold drops splashed on top of its invisible globe of fields, and little
rivulets of water ran round the transparent surface of that sphere to dribble
underneath, falling in a steady stream into the grass. 'I'll be in touch.
Goodbye, Gurgeh,' Mawhrin-Skel said.
The drone flicked away, tearing over the grass and into the sky in a grey cone
of slipstream. Gurgeh lost sight of it within seconds.
He stood for a while, brushing sand and bits of grass from his sodden clothes,
then turned to walk back in the direction he'd come from, through the falling
rain and the beating wind.
He looked back, once, to gaze again upon the house where he'd grown up, but
the squall, billowing round the low summits of the rolling dunes, had all but
obscured the rambling chaotic structure.
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Iain M. Banks - The Player of Games (1988) v1.0 : Scanned by HugHug
'But Gurgeh, what is the problem?'
'I can't tell you!' He walked up to the rear wall of the main room of
Chamlis's apartment, turned and paced back again, before going to stand by the
window. He looked out over the square.
People walked, or sat at tables under the awnings and archways of the pale,
green-
stone galleries which lined the village's main square. Fountains played, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]