don’t suppose you could possibly understand.”
That hurt me a little. Maybe it’s true, and I have spent too long among these people. Or not long enough. “There’s an alternative,” I said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you really want to blow up the world? Do you really want to kill millions of people?”
“Did your lot want to kill millions of people when they sent the great flood? Or millions of sea-monsters, or giant lizards, it doesn’t really matter. Evolution has no compassion. Besides, they’re all condemned to death anyway, so what difference does it make? But my supermen—”
“A handful.”
“Only a few,” he conceded. “We few, we happy few. Just think what I’m offering to my species. The next level.” He smiled. “You said you liked my doctrine of sides. Well, I’m on their side, and you’re on yours. Sorry. I wish we could’ve been friends.”
“There’s an alternative,” I repeated.
He looked at me for a long time, during which the cock crowed thrice. “Go on, then,” he said. “I’m listening.”
* * *
From my sleeve I took the brass tube containing the contract. I held it out. “Yours,” I said. “You can take it and put it in the fire. There will be no contract. Your soul will not be forfeit.”
He didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, for ever so long. “And in return?”
“All your alchemy equipment,” I said, “and your notes and your chemicals go in a big heap down at the bottom of the valley. Then you roll your barrel of hellbrew off the cliff on top of it. And you never, ever even think about practising alchemy again.”
He frowned. “If you’re saying we put the clock back—”
“No.” I shook my head. “You can keep the restored youth, and Mysia, all of that. You’ll have fifty or sixty years of natural life, and then you’ll go quietly and enjoy eternal bliss with the elect in paradise, or whatever.”
He smiled. “Apart from that, we just forget all about it and pretend it never happened?”
“You make it sound shabby and something to be ashamed of. It’s a good deal.” I paused. “Please,” I said. “I’m asking you as a friend.”
He looked at me. “Oh, in that case,” he said, and held out his hand.
* * *
I changed my mind about one thing. We didn’t roll the barrel off the cliff. I didn’t want anyone—especially the New Mysians, that collection of cutthroats and intellectuals—learning that it was possible for a human being to make any sort of weapon that powerful. Instead, we poured the stuff a trickle at a time down a deep, deep fissure into the very bowels of the Earth, into the broiling sea of molten magma. Then we dropped in the books, the notebooks, the stills, and the alembics.
He straightened up and looked at me. “It’s all still in here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Somewhere,” he added.
I shuddered. “That’s your guarantee,” I said. “But just because you’ve got it doesn’t mean you have to use it.”
“Exactly.” He beamed at me. He had a very charming smile. “Let’s be civilised about it.”
Then I gave him the brass tube. He fished out the sheet of parchment and showed it to me. “You never checked,” he said.
“What?”
“Look.” He pointed. At the foot of the page, where his signature should be, he’d written
Nemo
Neminis
filiu
: nobody son of no one. “I distracted you, remember? At the moment of signing. Invalid signature, invalid contract.” Then he tore the paper into little bits, and ate them. “I imagine you could get into a lot of trouble for that,” he said. “But the evidence is gone, so what the hell. It can be our secret.”
I felt a cold hand brush my analogue for a heart. A lot of trouble, indeed. I hated him and loved him, all in the same moment.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t mention it.” He stepped back from the fissure. A waft of hot air rose up, enough to singe a mortal’s hair. That would be the explosive, I guessed. “Well,”
That hurt me a little. Maybe it’s true, and I have spent too long among these people. Or not long enough. “There’s an alternative,” I said.
“I don’t think so.”
“Do you really want to blow up the world? Do you really want to kill millions of people?”
“Did your lot want to kill millions of people when they sent the great flood? Or millions of sea-monsters, or giant lizards, it doesn’t really matter. Evolution has no compassion. Besides, they’re all condemned to death anyway, so what difference does it make? But my supermen—”
“A handful.”
“Only a few,” he conceded. “We few, we happy few. Just think what I’m offering to my species. The next level.” He smiled. “You said you liked my doctrine of sides. Well, I’m on their side, and you’re on yours. Sorry. I wish we could’ve been friends.”
“There’s an alternative,” I repeated.
He looked at me for a long time, during which the cock crowed thrice. “Go on, then,” he said. “I’m listening.”
* * *
From my sleeve I took the brass tube containing the contract. I held it out. “Yours,” I said. “You can take it and put it in the fire. There will be no contract. Your soul will not be forfeit.”
He didn’t move, didn’t even breathe, for ever so long. “And in return?”
“All your alchemy equipment,” I said, “and your notes and your chemicals go in a big heap down at the bottom of the valley. Then you roll your barrel of hellbrew off the cliff on top of it. And you never, ever even think about practising alchemy again.”
He frowned. “If you’re saying we put the clock back—”
“No.” I shook my head. “You can keep the restored youth, and Mysia, all of that. You’ll have fifty or sixty years of natural life, and then you’ll go quietly and enjoy eternal bliss with the elect in paradise, or whatever.”
He smiled. “Apart from that, we just forget all about it and pretend it never happened?”
“You make it sound shabby and something to be ashamed of. It’s a good deal.” I paused. “Please,” I said. “I’m asking you as a friend.”
He looked at me. “Oh, in that case,” he said, and held out his hand.
* * *
I changed my mind about one thing. We didn’t roll the barrel off the cliff. I didn’t want anyone—especially the New Mysians, that collection of cutthroats and intellectuals—learning that it was possible for a human being to make any sort of weapon that powerful. Instead, we poured the stuff a trickle at a time down a deep, deep fissure into the very bowels of the Earth, into the broiling sea of molten magma. Then we dropped in the books, the notebooks, the stills, and the alembics.
He straightened up and looked at me. “It’s all still in here.” He tapped the side of his head. “Somewhere,” he added.
I shuddered. “That’s your guarantee,” I said. “But just because you’ve got it doesn’t mean you have to use it.”
“Exactly.” He beamed at me. He had a very charming smile. “Let’s be civilised about it.”
Then I gave him the brass tube. He fished out the sheet of parchment and showed it to me. “You never checked,” he said.
“What?”
“Look.” He pointed. At the foot of the page, where his signature should be, he’d written
Nemo
Neminis
filiu
: nobody son of no one. “I distracted you, remember? At the moment of signing. Invalid signature, invalid contract.” Then he tore the paper into little bits, and ate them. “I imagine you could get into a lot of trouble for that,” he said. “But the evidence is gone, so what the hell. It can be our secret.”
I felt a cold hand brush my analogue for a heart. A lot of trouble, indeed. I hated him and loved him, all in the same moment.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t mention it.” He stepped back from the fissure. A waft of hot air rose up, enough to singe a mortal’s hair. That would be the explosive, I guessed. “Well,”
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