Convergent Series by Charles Sheffield Page B

my cerebral cortex, with minimal cranial expansion.
    "I chose the second solution. I was warned that because the new hemispheres were an integral part of me, their efficiency for storage and recall would be affected by my own physical condition—how tired I was, or whether I had been taking stimulants of any kind. I tell you this so that you will not think I am antisocial if I refuse a drink, or that I am a valetudinarian, excessively concerned with my own health. I have to be careful about rest and recreational stimulants, or the mnemonic interface is impaired. And Steven does not like that."
    He smiled, and conflicting expressions chased themselves across his face, just as a sudden howl of wind hit the lowbuilding from outside. The fiber walls shivered. "For what I was not told, you see,"he went on, "was that my interior mnemonictwin might develop consciousness— self-awareness. It happened.As I said, I am Julius Graves, but I am also Steven Graves. He is the source of my information on Darya Langand on the Cecropian, Atvar H'sial. Now. Canwe proceed to other business?"
    "Can Steven talk?" Rebka asked. Max Perry seemed to be in shock. One member of the Council poking around in one's affairs was bad enough—now they had two of them. And was Julius Graves always in charge? From the changing expressions on his face, a continuous battle could be going on inside.
    Graves shook his head. "Steven cannot talk. He also cannot feel, see, touch, or hear, except as I send my own sensory inputs to mnemonic storage through an added corpus callosum.
    But Steven can think —better, he insists, than I can.As he tells me, he has moretime for it. And he sends signals back to me, his own thoughts in theform ofreturning memories.I cantranslate those, wellenough so that most people would believe Steven to be speaking directly. For instance." He was silent for a few moments. When he spoke his voice was noticeably younger and more lively. " Hi. Glad to be here on Opal. No one said that the weather here would be so lousy, but one nice thing about being where I am, you don't get wet when it rains." The voice returned to its hollow, gravelly tone. "My apologies. Steven has a fondness for weak jokes and an appalling sense of humor. I fail to control both, but I do try to screen them. And I confess that I also allow myself to become too dependent on Steven's knowledge. For instance, he holds most of our localinformation about conditions on this planet, while my own learning is sadly deficient. I deplore my own laziness.
    "But now, may we continue with business? I am here on Dobelle regarding a matter for which humor is not at all appropriate."
    "Murder," Perry muttered after a long pause. The height of the storm was almost there, and as the sounds of the wind increased he had become more clearly uncomfortable. Unable to sit still, he was prowling in front of the window, looking out at the threshing ferns and tall grasses, or up at racing clouds ruddy with the rustylight of Amaranth.
    "Murder," he repeated. "Multiple murder. That's what your request to visit Opal said."
    "It did. But only because I was reluctant to send word of a more serious charge over the Bose Network." Julius Graves was surely not joking now. "A more accurate word is genocide. I will moderate that, if you prefer, to suspected genocide."
    He stared quietly around him, while new rain lashed the walls and roof. The other two men had frozen, Max Perry motionless in front of the window, Hans Rebka on the edge of his seat.
    "Genocide. Suspected genocide. Is there a significant difference?" Rebka asked at last.
    "Not from some points of view." The full lips twitched and trembled. "There is no statute of limitations, in time or space, for theinvestigationof either. But we have only circumstantial evidence, without proof and without confession. It is my task to seek those. Iintend to find them here on Opal."
    Graves reached into the blue-trimmed pocket of his jacket andproduced two image