pre-selection is evolutionary, mainly because most parents pre-select to maximize the characteristics which allow success in the present culture. Those tend to be a combination of physical characteristics that optimize strength, reactions, and longevity and the ability to handle abstracts and spacial reasoning. Nanite augmentation is particularly helpful in further enhancing those abilities. In our current society, those are the most valuable traits. Will they always be so? The Dynae don’t believe so. They also believe that the negative long term impacts of such selection could be considerable—and greatly delayed. You aren’t vociferously championing this basis of society, and you’ve even expressed mild concerns. You haven’t gone after the Dynae or the naturists. For that matter, neither have your brother or your father. So why would the Dynae want you disabled or dead?”
“They don’t, you’re saying.” I grinned. “Then maybe your contacts there could look into who might. I’m not having much success.”
“I can ask…very indirectly.”
“That’s all I can hope for.”
“It’s a great deal more than you should be able to hope for, you scoundrel.” Mertyn lifted his glass. “But I still have hopes for you. I might yet make you into a radical.”
“What good would that do?”
“At least I’d have the satisfaction of corrupting the son of the most powerful man on the planet—and the brother of the next most powerful.” He laughed.
“You haven’t done that in more than twenty years.”
“I’m not done. Besides, you might end up in communications yet. In a way, you are already with your edartistry.”
“More than that would take both miracles and catastrophes, and I’d just as soon avoid both.”
He laughed. “Such a nonconformist you are, for all of your fine words about the problems with our society.”
“I don’t see that radical restructuring of society or natural disasters ever improved matters much. Look at the chaos after the Collapse….”
“You’re quoting my own words at me, Daryn, and I do believe I know them.” He grinned disarmingly.
I grinned back. “All right.” Then I poured more of the verdyn. “What have I overlooked?”
“Most of the possibilities. What about wealthy women you’ve spurned? Or rival edartists who can’t match your connections? That doesn’t take into account invisible aliens, mad scientists, or disturbed eccentrics. Or distant relatives who want a larger share of the family fortune…” Mertyn laughed.
I shook my head. “I haven’t even met any wealthy women to spurn.”
“You see?” Mertyn counterfeited a mournful expression. “How’s your sister?”
“You know as much as I do. She’s effectively running NEN, and giving both Gerrat and Father fits. It’s now the number three net system, and gaining on OneCys, and maybe even UniComm.”
“Good for her! Do you hear from her often?”
“We talk once or twice a month, but it’s all gossip. I know about her garden; she knows about my edartist ideas. She prefers it that way.” I shook my head.
Mertyn stood. “I’m going in for another brew. I’ll be right back.”
So I sat in the twilight, knowing Mertyn had said and promised what he would.
And I still didn’t have a solid clue. Or any thoughts about a more focused approach to find one.
Chapter 17
Fledgling: Kuritim, 422 N.E.
My strokes were long and clean as I swam out toward the channel edge of the reef, an edge marked with the black coral that the HMudd bioneers had created over five hundred years earlier. I swam at about eighty percent of my capability, according to my internals. That was the best trade-off between speed and the energy I’d have left after the swim back for the long run to the west end of the liftway.
Stroke, stroke, breathe…stroke, stroke, breathe…easy strokes, long strokes…I kept the rhythm constant.
When I’d finished the first klick, with another three hundred meters to the
“They don’t, you’re saying.” I grinned. “Then maybe your contacts there could look into who might. I’m not having much success.”
“I can ask…very indirectly.”
“That’s all I can hope for.”
“It’s a great deal more than you should be able to hope for, you scoundrel.” Mertyn lifted his glass. “But I still have hopes for you. I might yet make you into a radical.”
“What good would that do?”
“At least I’d have the satisfaction of corrupting the son of the most powerful man on the planet—and the brother of the next most powerful.” He laughed.
“You haven’t done that in more than twenty years.”
“I’m not done. Besides, you might end up in communications yet. In a way, you are already with your edartistry.”
“More than that would take both miracles and catastrophes, and I’d just as soon avoid both.”
He laughed. “Such a nonconformist you are, for all of your fine words about the problems with our society.”
“I don’t see that radical restructuring of society or natural disasters ever improved matters much. Look at the chaos after the Collapse….”
“You’re quoting my own words at me, Daryn, and I do believe I know them.” He grinned disarmingly.
I grinned back. “All right.” Then I poured more of the verdyn. “What have I overlooked?”
“Most of the possibilities. What about wealthy women you’ve spurned? Or rival edartists who can’t match your connections? That doesn’t take into account invisible aliens, mad scientists, or disturbed eccentrics. Or distant relatives who want a larger share of the family fortune…” Mertyn laughed.
I shook my head. “I haven’t even met any wealthy women to spurn.”
“You see?” Mertyn counterfeited a mournful expression. “How’s your sister?”
“You know as much as I do. She’s effectively running NEN, and giving both Gerrat and Father fits. It’s now the number three net system, and gaining on OneCys, and maybe even UniComm.”
“Good for her! Do you hear from her often?”
“We talk once or twice a month, but it’s all gossip. I know about her garden; she knows about my edartist ideas. She prefers it that way.” I shook my head.
Mertyn stood. “I’m going in for another brew. I’ll be right back.”
So I sat in the twilight, knowing Mertyn had said and promised what he would.
And I still didn’t have a solid clue. Or any thoughts about a more focused approach to find one.
Chapter 17
Fledgling: Kuritim, 422 N.E.
My strokes were long and clean as I swam out toward the channel edge of the reef, an edge marked with the black coral that the HMudd bioneers had created over five hundred years earlier. I swam at about eighty percent of my capability, according to my internals. That was the best trade-off between speed and the energy I’d have left after the swim back for the long run to the west end of the liftway.
Stroke, stroke, breathe…stroke, stroke, breathe…easy strokes, long strokes…I kept the rhythm constant.
When I’d finished the first klick, with another three hundred meters to the
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