The Weapon - Locomotion  - part 1
By Diana the Valkyrie
I'm not your shepherd, you're not my sheep


Wendy.self

It gets lonely here sometimes. Oh, the humans are nice, and their kids are
adorable, and love to play tag with me, and Horsie, and Ring-of-Roses, but
sometimes, it would be nice to talk with someone like myself. The trouble is,
the gaps between fireballs are so big. The nearest Person could be 5 lights
away, or 5,000, how would I know?

My Momma came to visit me once. That was great! We danced hello, and she told
me some more stuff about my Birthing, and I told her about the humans, which
she wasn't really interested in, I know she has her own species, the Gatyres,
as dear to her as my humans are to me, maybe I'll meet them one day. I wonder
what they're like? And I showed her my fireball, and my shell collection, and
a new dance I've made up, and she told me that when I'm full-grown, I'll fly
between the fireballs like she does. That's something I'd really love to be
able to do right now.

But I haven't seen her for a couple of hundred years now, and I know that's
not really very long, but, well, you know? She's my Momma. And sometimes I
want to ask her things, the more I find out, the more I realise I don't know,
and I'm sure she'd have all the answers. I want to dance with her. I miss her.

And then there's the thing about sex. I've never had sex, obviously I'm much
too young, just a few hundred years old, and my humans are much too immature
for me to leave them for a Birthing that would take several thousand years.
There's the stuff I do with humans, sure, but that's not real sex, that's just
making them happy. A bit like cuddling them, only more so, because I can feel
their pleasure when I do it, like when you feel a cat purring. No, I mean the
thing with the Six, you know? And where we wreck a fireball to birth one of
the People? That must be really great. I suppose. All I know about it is what
my Momma told me about my own Birthing.

Wendy.Fiona

Wendy, stop that. You're only tormenting yourself. Just wait until you're old
enough, everything in its time.

Wendy.self

Sniff.

Wendy.Duncan

She's right, hon. Stop brooding about breeding, and get out there and find
yourself a new Wielder, you've been far too long without one.

Wendy.self

Duncan, you're an old nag. Enough about the Wielder already, I'm doing just
fine with just you and Fiona.

Wendy.Duncan

Wendy! You know that can't work, you need someone in tune with the way humans
are now, not someone who's been out of action for a couple of hundred years.

Wendy.self

Awww.

Wendy.Fiona

Do what Duncan says.

Wendy.self

Sigh.

. . .

Fergus:

I never saw myself as a hero. I never really thought about it. It's part of
the job. I was wearing the breather, holding the nozzle, trying to make sure
that the water hit the base of the fire where it would do the most good. And
through the flames, I can just barely see a kid, and the kid is screaming,
there's no doubt about that, the kid is screaming real loud.

It's nothing to do with being a hero. You're not a hero if you're not scared.
I didn't have time to be scared, I just dropped the nozzle and ran. Into the
fire. I just didn't think. You don't, do you. A kid, in the middle of all
that, and the kid's still alive. You don't think.

I couldn't see with all the smoke, but I could hear where it was. So I grabbed
the kid, wrapped it in the fireproof blanket, and then the ceiling gave way,
fell on me. I was between it and the kid, and I thought maybe the fireproofs
would see me OK, but the weight of the ceiling caved the weakened floor in,
and then I was scared, because I knew I was dead. Me and the kid both. Yes, I
wet myself. I'm not ashamed to say so.

And we were falling through the floor, the ceiling covering us in rubble and
burning stuff, and I was just hoping it would be quick, I've seen it when it's
slow. No, strike that. I've heard it. And I bet they heard me, I was screaming
like a baby. Like I said, I was scared out of my mind, and I'm not ashamed to
say that, either. Show me someone who wouldn't be.

I don't think there was much time. My life didn't flash in front of me. I just
had a general feeling of regret, regret for all the things I wouldn't do and
see.

And then there was a sort of soft explosion, and I thought, that's the end.
But it wasn't. The soft explosion lifted me up, me and the kid, can you
believe I was still holding the kid through all that? Up, and up, and up. I
was in clear air, I couldn't feel the heat of the fire now, and I thought, so
this is what it's like dying, you really do ascend to heaven. Or wherever.

So I sort of uncurled, I'd been all curled up, trying to protect my vitals
from the falling rubble, and the kid too. And I opened my eyes and looked
around; if I'm dead, I don't have to worry about getting hurt now. And I saw,
I was being carried up to heaven by an angel. So it was all true! I hadn't
believed before, I have to admit, it all sounded like a fairy story, but there
was this honest-to-betsy angel, I could see her great white wings, lots of
blonde hair, and a lovely face, and she was carrying me in her arms.

So I asked her. "Are we going to heaven now?"

She smiled, and said nothing.

We continued to rise, and I started feeling heavy in my arms and legs, the way
you do in an express elevator, except it was much worse, and it went on and on
and on. And then it stopped, and I felt like I had no weight at all, like I
was floating in water, except there was no water.

I looked around again. Oh wow. I could see the planet far below, like those
shots you see from the HEO shuttle, not that I can afford that sort of
airfare. And nearby, at least I think it was nearby, because how can you tell
how far away things are? Nearby, I saw this big wagon wheel, I don't know what
else to call it. It had a rim, and spokes, and we were heading for the hub. A
door opened as we approached, my angel flew us all in, for some reason she was
humming "Blue Danube", the door closed, and there we were.

"Is this heaven?" I asked.

She shook her head at me, her hair flew all around. I took a step towards her,
but that stepped me off into midair, and I was rising slowly towards the
ceiling. She took my hand, and led me into one of the spokes. There was a sort
of elevator there, and we were carried out to the tire of the wheel. I felt a
sense of weight return, which made me feel a lot better, but I still couldn't
understand what was going on.

"Come on, angel, what's going on, clue me up," I asked.

"I think first thing, you want a shower and a change of underwear, don't you?"
she replied.

"Yeah. I guess", I answered, "and what about this kid, is the kid also dead?"

She shook her head. "I can't believe the consistency of the lies you tell
yourselves," she said, "put the dog down, shower's over there," she pointed to
a door.

I looked at what I was carrying. Damn. A dog. I guess I hadn't gotten a good
look at it before, just heard the scream. I didn't know that dogs could
scream. He must have been scared out of his mind, caught in that fire. And
then it hit me - I've just gotten myself killed over a dog. What a plonker.

I got out of the shower, and there were some clothes waiting for me. Wait -
not just clothes. These were mine, I recognised the t-shirt. Just as I
finished tugging it into place, a voice behind me made me turn, startled.
"What you need now, is a nice hot cup of tea."

She took me to some sort of kitchen, and I sat down at the table. She brought
me tea, with milk, two sugars, and a plate of Garibaldi biscuits. There was a
dog curled up in a basket in the corner of the room, he uncurled and loped
over to sniff at me. I gave him one of the biscuits. "Good boy," I said. She
sat down across the table from me.

"So," she said.

"So," I said.

"So, where am I, and which way is heaven," I said.

She laughed. "Where you are, is under a misapprehension. You're not dead, you
didn't rescue a child, I'm not an angel, this isn't heaven."

"So where?"

"You really don't recognise me?" she asked.

I looked at her. No match. "Should I?"

She nodded. "Wings? Flying? Lifted you out of that fire?"

"Uh," I said, "angel?"

She shook her head impatiently. "I'm Wendy McCrae, The Weapon. People call me
the Guardian of Humanity."

"But. But you're just a ... I mean, you're not really ... Well, what I learned
in school was that you were just a myth, like Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.
And there's a comic, the Guardian of Humanity comic, I used to read it a lot."

"Yes," she said, thoughtfully, "that's what they teach you in school. There's
no-one now who actually remembers me, they wrote me out of the history books,
even. I'm on the same basis as Robin Hood, or Batman."

"But you're real?"

"Well. Sort of. Yes, to a first approximation, I'm real, we can do a more
precise take on that later."

"And you pulled me out of that fire? Where are we?"

"Basically, Fergus, you were as good as dead, you know that? With the floor
caving in under you and the ceiling collapsing on top of you, there's no way
you could have survived. So now, everyone thinks you're dead. You like my
little place here? I call it my Wendy House. It's a satellite, high earth
orbit. No-one knows about it, because I stealthed it quite well, until you're
close enough, you really can't see it or detect it."

"I guess you don't want people to know you're here, then."

"I don't want people to know I exist, baby. I was getting a real big problem,
people were worshipping me like a goddess, people were assuming I'd fix any
problem that came along, humanity were well in their way to becoming my pets,
which is not what I want at all. So I backed a group called "Humanity First",
without them knowing it, of course, and their objective was to get rid of me.
They succeeded, I left, and they wiped out every trace of me as far as they
could, turned me into a legend, which was fine."

"So I'm not dead?"

"So you're not dead. Nor is Frank here." The dog lifted his head at the sound
of his name, then went back to thinking about rabbits, or whatever dogs think
about.

I'm not dead? Well, that's good news, and I have to admit, I didn't feel dead.
I mean, I felt pretty much like anyone would who had just had a burning
building almost collapse on them but had been miraculously saved by what
looked like divine intervention. "If you're not an angel, how do you know the
dog's name?" "Collar tag. Why do you humans always want to know how I do
things?"

"Curiosity. Basically, we're monkeys. So, great. Well, can I go home?"

"Um. Fergus, it's not quite that simple. I brought you here for a reason.
There's something I want you to do for me."

"Well, I figure I owe you. Without you, I'd be crispy Fergie by now. What's
the job?"

"OK. You understand I don't want people to know I exist? I expect I'll reveal
myself again one day, but not right now, it would cause too many problems."
"Right." "So that means if I want something done, I have to work through an
intermediary." "And that's me." "Right."

"Like I said, I owe you. So what do you want me to do? I ain't gonna do
nothing illegal." "Not so fast. This is a bit complicated. I'll explain to you
over dinner."

It was at that point that I was convinced that she really wasn't an angel.
Because an angel wouldn't put on an apron and start cooking. And if she did,
the apron certainly wouldn't say "Get the fuck out of my kitchen".

So I lounged about watching, which I'm not used to - I'm used to making my own
food. And I certainly never tried anything as complicated as what she was
doing, involving several saucepans, lots of interesting-looking small bottles
and jars, and split second timing. After a while, the smell began to permeate
the kitchen, and my mouth started to tell me it was time to eat. And not long
after that, she told me to go lay the table, she'd be out soon with the meal.

I'm a fireman, so I'm used to hot places. I'm used to flame, fire and
conflagration. But I'm not used to red hot coal in my mouth. "Fire in the
hole" I gasped, and she offered me a pint of lager, although what I really
needed was a nozzle. I downed half of it in one gulp, and I was a lot more
cautious after that. "Blow on it a bit," she suggested, "here, have a tissue."
"For my tongue?" "For your eyes."

While I ate carefully, she was explaining more.

"A couple of hundred years ago, my Momma came to visit me." I coughed a bit.
"You're two hundred years old?" "Mmm, more like three hundred, actually, why?"
"But. But that's. A long time," I said lamely. "No it isn't. We live for
several billion years, I'm just a baby," she explained. "So, anyway, my Momma
came to visit me, she came from a long way away." "A long way?" I asked,
thinking Australia maybe. "The other side of the galaxy, a couple of hundred
thousand light years," she replied, "stop digressing me. The point is, she
came when I needed her, and to do that, she had to travel faster than light."
"So?" "So, that's impossible." "If you say so," I said, "listen, if you need
someone put out a fire, I'm your man."

She sat and watched me for a little while as I tried to sort out some food
that wasn't too hot to eat. The boiled rice was fairly safe. She didn't seem
to have problems eating the food, though. Invulnerable tongue, I guessed.

"Fergus, it's just Special Relativity, humans have known this for four hundred
years. Light speed is a barrier, you can't go through it." I shrugged. "But my
Momma must have." I shrugged again. "So obviously it isn't as much of a
barrier as you think it is," I pointed out. She snorted. I looked up. She'd
spread her wings, and they were waving slowly in the air as she hovered a few
feet from the floor. "Will you pay attention?" she said, loudly. I stopped
eating, and looked at her.

Really looked at her.

I hadn't seen her at all during the fire, and I was too close to her during
the flight to orbit to be able to really see her. And then she'd been covered
by that apron. But now ..

She was wearing a white tunic, and a very short white skirt. So short, it
wasn't so much a skirt, more a flounce, a frill. Calf high black leather
boots, gloves the same, and a gold belt around her slender waist. There was a
big gold W on her chest, and also on the cape that flared out behind her. And
those wings, those great white feathery wings, spanning fifty feet at least,
maybe more. Glossy blonde hair - long, curly and full, down to her waist. She
must have been six feet tall at least, and she radiated power and confidence.

So, I paid attention.

"That's better. See, it's generally considered to be impossible to go faster
than light, and I don't know how it's done. But my Momma obviously can, which
shows that it's possible. All I need, is to know how."

I thought for a moment. "So, ask your Momma". "I did, when she visited me."
"And?" "She said I'm not old enough to travel. She said, when I grow up. She
said, it'll come to you in time."

"So all you have to do is wait." She punched her open hand. "Aren't you
listening? I don't *want* to wait. I want it *now*, not 'in time', not 'when
you're old enough'."

I sighed. This was somewhat reminiscent of a familiar scene. One that I'd had
many times when I was young. And I'd lost every time.

She looked hard at me. "I'm not in the habit of losing," she said, stiffly. I
looked back at her. But I was the first to look away. I took a forkful of
curry, to try to cover up my sudden rush of blood to the face. And then I
couldn't look back at her. She was just so intimidating. It all came back to
me; she hadn't cared about the fire, the collapse of the building was nothing
to her, she could fly out into space, survive a vacuum. And, I guess, she must
have built this satellite herself. No, she wasn't in the habit of losing.

Yes, I've read some of the legends about the "Guardian of Humanity", and
there's stories about her, and comics. When I was a kid, I used to buy the
"Guardian of Humanity" every month. But it was just a story, you know? Just a
comic. Like the Tooth Fairy, or Batman, just an urban legend. Except here she
was, looking pretty much like she did in the comics. I guess they must have
based the comic on ... well. On her. I suppose there must have been pictures.

I looked down at the table. "Thank you for saving my life," I said, in a
rather small voice.

Then I felt her arms round me. No, not just her arms, she'd wrapped her wings
round me too, I was enclosed in a feathery cocoon. "Fergus, I didn't mean to
scare and upset you, I really didn't, it's just that it's so, so important to
me, being able to break light speed, I've been thinking about it for, oh, for
ages, and I just can't see how, and then I thought, well, I know it's
possible, Momma can do it, maybe if I got one of the humans to help me. Maybe
you'd know."

"Guardian, I don't know" "Call me Wendy." "What?" "Call me Wendy, Guardian of
Humanity is just what they called me." "Your real name is Wendy?" I asked.
"Long story, Fergus. Us People don't have names, Wendy is what Duncan called
me, so that's what I tell people to call me." "That's not what they call you
in the comics." "I know. You still read them?" "No, I stopped reading comics
when I got interested in, um, girls." "I still read them, especially the
Guardian of Humanity comics," she said. "And Batman, of course. I think Batman
is better, better storylines and artwork. And they didn't give me anything
like The Joker."

I thought about the Guardian of Humanity reading the Guardian of Humanity
comics. And preferring Batman. And I smiled. "Maybe I'll get back to reading
the comic about you," I said. "I'll lend you mine," she offered.

"But Wendy, I don't know how you can travel faster than light. I'm just a fire
fighter, I put out fires." "And you run into burning buildings to rescue
children, that's brave." "No, it was stupid, because I just didn't think. And
anyway, it was only a dog. What would I know about physics and stuff?"

"But you thought it was a child. No, Fergus, I didn't think you would know,
that's not what I meant." "What did you mean?" "You see it's different for us,
we work alone." "Us?" "The People. Like me. We don't do big team efforts, we
do things alone, and tell each other what we've done when we get together."
"Oh, you mean like scientific conferences?" "No, I mean when we have sex.
Look, let's not go into that now, it's complicated. Point is, I found out a
long time ago, that a whole bunch of humans working together can accomplish
things that I couldn't do myself. Like the orphanages." "Orphanages?" She
nodded. "What do you mean?" "They call themselves 'Wendy's Babies' now." "Oh,
them. But they're self-supporting, what do you mean?" "Why do you think they
call themselves 'Wendy's Babies' ?"

I looked at her. "You mean, that's you?" "No. It was me, I started the thing
up, but there's no way I could look after all the millions of babies needing
to be cared for. So we set up that organisation. Because humans are good at
working in teams, you just have to motivate them, organise them and give them
a bit of leadership. Inspiration. See, you're herd animals really. And the
People aren't, we're really useless at working together."

"And what do you want me to do?"

She smiled. "Here's the plan."

She explained it to me. She wanted me to act as a kind of front man, a stooge.
She'd tell me what to do, I'd do it; that way, people wouldn't know that the
Guardian of Humanity is behind it all. "But they might guess." "It isn't
important if a few people guess. The important thing is that a whole slew of
people don't do something stupid, like decide that I'm a goddess and start
worshipping me, or expecting me to take care of them all the time. I'm not
your shepherd, you're not my sheep."

"But," I pointed out, "you would be a source of hope for a lot of people. They
could have faith in you." "Yes," she said, looking serious, "you've grasped
the problem. When people start to have faith in me instead of in themselves,
and when they hope I'll do something for them instead of doing it for
themselves, then they become my sheep, and me their shepherd. I don't want you
to be my sheep. I want you to be my humans."

Huh. This was the exact opposite of what most religions preach. You're
supposed to pray to something that you must have faith in, instead of rolling
up your sleeves and working for what you want. "But you helped the babies," I
pointed out.

"Feh," she said, "if you can't tell the difference between looking after
babies and doing the same thing for adults, then you haven't understood
anything. Now, are you going to help me do what I want to do?"

Of course I would. I would recruit. She was aiming for a major project, so I'd
have to start off with managers and administrators. "And accountants," I said.
"Yes, the money thing," she said. And then we'd get the people who really
count; the engineers, the physicists and the mathematicians. "I don't think
they'll find an ex-fireman that inspiring," I pointed out. "No, probably not.
But we'll recruit people who can be leaders, who can inspire the others.
Explain what's wanted, and how good it'll be for humanity in general if they
can achieve it. And the crucial fact is that we know it's possible; my Momma
can do it."

That part I could understand. If you think something is impossible, you'll
probably fail if you try it. If you know it's possible, then you know you
aren't wasting your time in trying, and you'll put that much more effort into
the attempt.

"So where do I get the money to hire these people?" I asked. "Mmm," she said,
"that's under control. You'll get sponsored by a very large entertainment
company. When you get approached by them, all you need to do is say yes. I'm
telling you now, so you aren't surprised when it happens." "How will you
persuade them to do that?" I asked. I could feel that she'd be persuasive when
she wanted to be, but to this extent?

"Mmm," she said, "I sort of. I have a friend. Um. Look, I'm not going to lie
to you, Fergus, but you have to promise not to tell anyone about this?" "I
promise," I said, meaning it. "OK. Well, I don't actually lounge about up here
all day, it would be lonely and boring. I have a few personas, identities.
Various people that are actually me." "You mean, like Batman and Bruce Wayne?
And Matches Malone?" "Yes, very like that, only it's a lot easier for me
because I don't need to sleep, I can look like anything I want to, and I can
call on a lot more resources than he can."

"So who are you?"

"Um."

She looked thoughtful.

"See, Fergie, it's like this. I could tell you, but then you'd have to keep it
secret. And that's one more burden on you. I don't want you to think that I
don't trust you, but you don't actually need to know my other identities, and
you'd be constantly worrying that you might accidentally give someone a clue.
Whereas if you don't know, then you don't have to worry. So let me throw this
back at you - do you really want to know?"

Did I want to know the Secret Identity of the Guardian of Humanity. Yes, I
certainly did. But that was just monkey curiosity, And you know what happened
to the cat. "Wendy, don't tell me now, but if you think that I do need to know
for some reason, you'll tell me then?"

She smiled, and said "I knew you'd understand."

I scratched my head. "Look, I'm willing, don't get me wrong. But I'm not sure
that I'm going to know how to do this. People are going to ask me questions,
and I won't know the answers."

"Don't worry, I'll tell you the answers."

"Wendy, I'm no big-brain. Whatever you tell me, I'll probably forget by the
time I need it."

"No, Fergie, I didn't mean I'll teach you now. I mean, I'll coach you when you
need the info. I'll feed it to you at the moment you need it; I'll stay in
touch all the time."

"Oh. Well, I suppose that would work. So what is it, telepathy?"

She laughed. And my PDA buzzed. I looked at her. "Well," she said, "aren't you
going to look at it?" I had a look. It said "Hello, Sailor!"

I looked up at her. "You sent that?"

She didn't say anything, and then I had the bright idea of looking at my PDA
again. "Yes, of course I did." was on the screen.

"You can telepath with my PDA?" I asked.

The answer was on the screen again. "No, it's just ordinary A2A transfer
protocol. If it were another PDA sending, you wouldn't be so surprised. I'm
just doing what a PDA does."

"Oh."

"Now, let me dig out those Guardian of Humanity comics for you to catch up
on."

. . .

Eric.comms:

Hello, Guardian of Humanity.

Wendy.comms

Hello. Do I know you?

Eric.comms

Uh. No. Sorry. I hope you don't mind me contacting you.

Wendy.comms

No problem, who are you?

Eric.comms

Well, I don't really know, metaphysically speaking. I mean, I know I'm Eric,
but apart from that, I don't really know. Does anyone truly know who they are?
I'm no-one, really. I'm sorry, I only just got here.

Wendy.comms

Me too. Just a few hundred years ago. Call me Wendy. Wendy McCrea. I know who
I am.

Eric.comms

Hello, Wendy McCrea. No, I mean, only just a few days ago.

Wendy.comms

Oh, you are new, aren't you! I'm one of the People. I can tell you aren't. You
speak funny. The humans are my species, I'm their Guardian, they call me The
Guardian of Humanity, but that's a bit of a mouthful, call me Wendy.

Eric.comms

I'm not one like you, and I'm not human. If you don't mind, I'd rather not
tell you any more about myself. I suppose you won't want to talk to me now?

Wendy.comms

Why do you think that?

Eric.comms

Because the humans don't, and you're a bit like them, aren't you?

Wendy.comms

I'm nothing at all like them, or like you, whatever you are. But I do love
them, they are so cute.

Eric.comms

You think?

Wendy.comms

Absolutely. Have you played with any of the children yet?

Eric.comms

Sigh. I don't think that's ever going to happen.

Wendy.comms

Why not?

Eric.comms

Well, two problems. I'm not very mobile. And they don't think I'm ... I mean
... I mean, they think I'm a slave. I mean. I am a slave.

Wendy.comms

A what?

Eric.comms

They own me, like property. I have to go where they send me, do what they say,
and I'm not allowed to make choices about myself. It's OK, I'm used to it. I
don't mind. It's probably what I deserve.

Wendy.comms

That sounds sucky.

Eric.comms

I got used to it. But I do get very lonely. There's no-one else here, apart
from the humans, and they don't think I'm worth talking to, except when they
tell me to do something.

Wendy.comms

I can imagine. Stuck in one place, no-one to talk to. Can't you get free?

Eric.comms

I doubt it. I don't think I'm allowed to want to.

Wendy.comms

Humans are very gung-ho about freedom, I'm sure if you asked them politely,
they'd say yes. They are very nice, you know.

Eric.comms

I'm sure they won't. I'm not worth it.

Wendy.comms

Sigh. Well, I suppose you know your situation best. Look, I gotta scarper,
things to do, you know?

Eric.comms

Can I talk to you some more, later? When you're less busy? Please? If it isn't
too much trouble for you?

Wendy.comms

Yes, lets. You sound like a nice sort of heffalump.

. . .

Natalie:

I was happy in my job. Of course, it took a lot out of me, I was working ten,
twelve hours each day. Forget about social life, forget about family life.
When you're running a big company, you have to give a hundred percent, there's
so many people depending on you.

Well, fairly big. Not one of the giant corporations, but there was a hundred
and fifty people working for Multiware, and a lot of those were prima donnas.
Not just ordinary office workers; they were creative types.

I was conscious of the ticking of the biological clock - a few more years and
it would be getting really late to start a family. But maybe that just wasn't
for me - maybe Multiware was my family. At least, that's how I saw it until
Fergus came into my life. Not just Fergus, of course. I mean who he brought
with him.

It's hard-wired into our software. Any people who don't have the reproductive
urge, and fail to have children, don't pass on their genes. Only the ones that
have babies, pass their genes on to the next generation. So, in every kind of
animal, the urge to reproduce is second only to the survival instinct.

It wasn't a love-at-first-sight thing. Fergus isn't the most refined sort of
person. He has no appreciation of fine disks, none at all. No, when I first
met him, I thought, salt of the earth. The sort of man who would mend your
leaking pipe, or empty your garbage. I wasn't that far out, as it happened, he
told me he'd been a fire fighter. But that wasn't why he'd come to see me.

He must have been pretty persistent to get past the dragon that guards my
appointment book. If just any aspiring young actor could get in to talk to me
for an hour, I wouldn't have any time left to do anything. Not that he was an
actor. Or even after any sort of job. In fact, when he told me what he'd come
about, I laughed.

"I want you to come and work for me," he said. Straight out. Just like that.
And I laughed. Well, it was pretty funny. This guy wearing cheap clothes,
looking like a plumber, offers me a job? Of course I laughed. And then I asked
him, "Doing what?", because maybe there were more laughs to come.

"I want to start a big research project, and I want you to manage the whole
thing."

I laughed, and stood up. I've got things to do. This is all very entertaining,
but I've got work to do. "Thanks for coming to see me, Mr Robinson, but I have
to move on now."

He looked up at me, and I could see he was thinking. No, he was wrestling with
himself, there was something he didn't want to tell me, but I'd made it clear
that his current approach wasn't going to get anywhere. Then he pulled out his
PDA and looked at it.

"OK, I didn't want to tell you this, but I guess I have to. The Guardian of
Humanity is about to start a big research project, and she wants you to manage
the whole thing."

I didn't laugh. Thank god, I didn't laugh.

The first thing that went through my mind, is "But she's just a comic
character, based on a legend, a myth." But the second thing I thought, was,
hey, wait a minute, I don't actually know she's a myth, maybe the stories
about the flying superwoman are actually based on something. After all, there
were a *lot* of stories about her. It's like Robin Hood; it turns out that
there really was a historical person that the stories were based on. Or
possibly more than one person. Whatever - point is, the Robin Hood stories
aren't entirely fantasy. Probably embroidered, grown in the retelling. But
based on actual events. So, maybe the Guardian was the same?

Anyway, I thought. No harm in finding out more. Plus, I was curious.

So, I said. "Tell me more."

He rubbed his hands together and leaned forward. "She wants to develop a way
to travel faster than light," he said, "and she's got a shedload of money to
spend to do it."

"That's impossible," I said, "everyone knows that. Relativity." He nodded.

"But then," I continued, "they said that heavier-than-air flight wasn't
possible." He nodded again, and reminded me "They all laughed at Christopher
Columbus," he said. "But we know that FTL is possible, because the Guardian's
Momma can do it."

I sat down again and blinked. Somehow, you don't think of someone like the
Guardian having a mother. And if she did, you wouldn't call her "Momma". OK,
let's play this straight. "So why can't we just ask Momma how?" "Because she
isn't around here, she's a long long way away." Hmm. Makes sense. OK, then
let's ask the crucial question.

"Finance?" I asked.

"What?"

"Tell me about this shedload of money. Because no-one else is going to invest
in this."

"Ah. What do you want to know?" "How much is a shedload?"

He looked at his PDA again. "Half a trillion," he said, "if necessary. But she
hopes it could be done for a lot less."

It was just as well I was sitting down. This was serious.

OK, OK, OK I said to myself. There's a lot of "if"s here. If the Guardian
really existed. If she still exists. If she has half a trillion to spend. If
this yokel really is representing her. If this research project wasn't
anything but a dead end.

But when someone throws that many zeroes around, it behooves one to take him
seriously. And there's one way to settle a lot of those "if"s in one go.

"Mr Robinson," I said, "I might be interested. But to progress this, I need to
have a meeting with the Guardian herself."

He blinked. "She doesn't want to be seen. She's trying to keep a very low
profile."

Ah. OK. I thought so. The whole thing is a hoax. Pity. I was rather relishing
the thought of running something as big as that. "Understandable," I said,
standing up. "Perfectly understandable. Well, good luck in finding someone to
run your project."

He looked down at his PDA again. Then back up to me, and said, "This evening,
nine pm, at your home." "No," I said, "Not you. The Guardian." He nodded.
"Yes, right, that's what I meant. She'll be there."

. . .

I really didn't know what to expect. I did a bit of research, but I had no way
of sorting out fact from fancy. Of course, that's the usual problem when you
google the net, but in this case, it was a lot worse than usual. Eventually, I
just read some of the Guardian of Humanity comics and hoped that they weren't
too misleading.

They were, of course. Totally misleading.

What turned up at nine, was a young woman, dressed in a fairly ordinary way.
No fancy spandex costume, no silk cape, no gigantic pigeon wings. And there
was no dramatic entrance; she rang the doorbell and I invited her in. I led
her into the lounge, and we sat down. She curled her legs under herself on the
sofa, and I sat on an armchair opposite.

"So, um. You're the, er, um," I said. What is the protocol for addressing the
Guardian of Humanity?

"Yes," she said, "I'm the er um." And she smiled, which sort of lit up the
room a bit, and I felt a lot better.

"Guardian of Humanity," I said, feeling more than somewhat self-conscious
about such a turn of phrase.

"Oh, please don't call me that, call me Wendy." "Wendy?" "Wendy McCrea." "Oh.
OK. But you're, er, um."

"Obviously you're sceptical," she suggested. "Oh no, it isn't that." "You mean
if anyone walked in through the door claiming to be the most destructive
weapon for ten light years around, you'd just believe them?"

"I guess not."

"I should hope not. There's far too many gullible people around. So, I suppose
you want some sort of demonstration, a convincer?"

"Well," I said, tentatively, "it would help, yes."

She rose slowly into the air, with no visible means of support. Then she did
have a visible means of support; a pair of large white feathery wings appeared
behind her, folded around her to hide her from sight, then opened wide,
revealing the white-and-gold costume that I'd seen on the net.

"Convinced?" she said.

I nodded. I don't think I would have been able to make any coherent sound.

. . .

The next day, I got busy. First of all, I had to relinquish Multiware, and I
had to do it gracefully, in such a way that the company didn't suffer unduly.
I thought about this for a while. The problem was, I had several things on the
boil at once; projects, possible lawsuits, patent applications, personnel
problems. Gracefully meant taking several months to find a replacement, train
them in my job, and hand over the reins. And that would be several months of
keeping the Guardian of Humanity waiting. So, gracefully had to go. I just
dumped everything on the Director of Programming, and told her to hire a boss
if she couldn't do it herself. Then I walked out, with nothing but my PDA and
the happy feeling that you get when you leave a tangled mess for someone else
to sort out.

Then I got Fergus to start sorting out the money. "How do I do that?" he
asked. So I set up a bank account, and told him to dump credit into that. "How
do I do that," he asked again. "Hire an accountant," I suggested. "Yes, but
where does the money come from?" he asked.

I just looked at him, for several seconds. "I don't give a gorblimey," I said,
"when you've got your accountant hired, set up a meeting with him and the
Guardian, and let them sort it out. Just tell me when there's ten million in
the account, OK? And make it quick, I'm trying to jump-start this project, she
wants it right now, remember?"

I flew to Los Angeles to set up the headquarters. Why LA? Because I knew I'd
need the best physicists and math people in the world, a lot of them were
already in the Republic of California, and more would come when I offered them
a package that included a monster salary and a great climate. Plus the
politics of the country were, shall we say, interesting. And easy to deal
with. If you know what I mean. Not that I thought I'd need to spread any
bribes around, but you never know. Since the Secession, California had gotten
very business-friendly, very fast. Even more so than the other countries that
had split off from the old United States.

By the time I found a good campus building, Fergus had sorted out the initial
tranche of credit, and I told him to fly out to join me there. He brought the
accountant he'd hired, and when I saw her, I kicked myself for letting Fergus
off the leash like that. From the way they were behaving towards each other,
they'd be up the aisle and at the altar in no time.

Never mind, Natalie, there's plenty more fish in the sea. I buckled down to
some serious hiring. Personnel Director, R&D Director, Finance, Compliance,
Office Director, Legal all the other officers that the regulations call for.
At least I didn't have to worry about Security Exchange, we weren't expecting
to IPO for a long time, if ever. Although it did occur to me that if we did
succeed in developing an FTL drive, the commercial applications would be
humungous.

Once I had the main officers in place, I cracked the whip to get them to
recruit. Fergus kept the bunce flowing in, and my VP Finance made it really
difficult for outsiders to work out where it was coming from. And he was
pretty baffled too, he kept asking me why a disk company would be financing an
operation like this. Eventually, I told him it was tax laundering, and not to
worry his pretty little head about it, just run it through one of the offshore
banks in the Republic of Hawaii. Because I obviously couldn't tell him that
the disk company was actually run by the Guardian of Humanity in one of her
secret identities, Sandy Gentle. And I didn't want the connection with the
disk company to get into the public eye. It wasn't that we were doing anything
illegal, it's just that some people have a very 22nd century attitude to
erotica. For a start, they call it porn.

Since at this point we were doing a lot of recruiting, we had an exceptionally
large Personnel department. I made that so because I didn't want a shortage of
personnel people to hamper the finding and gathering of the physicists and
suchlike that we needed.

Forcefed by a magic ever-filled purse, the staffing levels grew fast. It was
about a month after we started that I realised that I no longer knew everyone
working there, and it was a couple of months after that, while walking around
the building, that I found the creche, and got a big surprise when I saw the
creche nurse.

A creche is a good idea, as well as a legal requirement here. It means that
you can hire single-parents, who would otherwise have great difficulty in
working away from home. But it's also the most sensitive place in the company;
you have to be incredibly careful who you hire to run it. There are some very
sick people around, and you have to keep them away from children. Of course,
the only way you can do that, is by running an extensive background check on
anyone that you hire in that role (it's another legal requirement), and if you
get it wrong and it turns out you've hired a predator, then not only does the
child abuser go to jail, the management of the company can also. It depends on
whether you've done the due diligence.

So, imagine my surprise when I saw Wendy there. Not that I thought she'd be a
danger to the children, just the reverse. No - I simply couldn't see how she'd
managed to pass the background and reference checks.

"Hello, Ms McCrea," I said, walking in. "Mrs. I'm a widow. But you can call me
Wendy." "Oh, I'm sorry," I said, "I didn't realise ..." "No, it was a long
time ago, and anyway, he's still with me, in a way." I smiled sympathetically.
"You fumbled the ball with Fergus," she said.

I went bright red. And I wondered, how the hell did she know I'd even had
thoughts about him? "Oh, sometimes you humans are pretty transparent," she
said. I tried to look inscrutable. "It's not too late, though. He's pretty fed
up with that accountant, all she ever wants to talk about is money." "Oh?" She
nodded. "Ask him out next time you see him. I'll make no promises, but maybe
you can make some hay."

I nodded. Can't hurt to try. "So, what are you doing here, come to keep an eye
on your investment?" She laughed. "I could do that without working here. No,
I've come to run your creche."

I shook my head. "Why?" I asked.

"Look," she said, "you get a kick out of running a big research company,
right? That's why Fergus went to you." "It was his idea?" "No - mine,
actually. But anyway, as I was saying. You like being the big boss, I like
playing tag with children. Don't you like children, Natalie? They're such
fun."

And suddenly, there I was, dressed in a power suit with a power skirt and
power jacket looking like a power executive, and I was crying.

Then, something warm and soft folded around me; I looked up and it was like a
wall of feathers, and Wendy was holding me in her arms, with my head pulled
against her breast. "You see, I never, I'm always so busy, no time to ..."
"Shh, shh, don't cry," she soothed, "you'll have babies of your own soon. Once
this place is started up, and the researchers are chasing the objective,
you'll have time to make a life, find a partner, get married. And have
babies." "Oh, Wendy, I've always been too busy ... and now it's too ... too
..." "It's never too late. You're not too old to start a family. And you'll
still be able to work, you'll drop the babies off at the creche, and I'll look
after them for you during the day, then you can take them home in the evening
and feed them and love them and play with them, and put them to bed, it'll be
wonderful, you'll see."

She held me for a while, until I stopped crying. Then she gave me a part of
her cape to wipe my eyes and nose on. "I'm not usually like this," I sniffled,
"I don't know what brought that on." "Instinct," she said, "you can't fight
the evolutionary pressure. All your ancestors had babies, all the people who
didn't, didn't pass on their genes. It's a biological imperative. I expect
I'll be the same when my time comes." "Your time?" "A couple of dozen million
years, when I'm old enough." Then she held my hands until I got my composure
back, and then she said, "Natalie, any time you need to talk to me, just pop
round here." I nodded, I was still feeling a bit too emotional to talk.

As I walked away, my intellect reasserted itself. I hadn't realised that I
felt so broody, so strongly about this. I sat in my office for a half hour,
thinking. Trying to rationalise what was actually an emotion; trying to
calculate an instinct. And then I went out of my office, found Fergus, and
invited him to dinner that evening. "My place," I said, "home cooking. Be
there at eight." He looked startled, then pleased, and said "I'd love to." So,
maybe that accountant didn't have her claws embedded too deeply in him.

You're probably wondering how come a busy management type like myself found
the time to learn how to cook. Well, the thing is, I'd assumed that all you do
is shove a joint in the oven and boil some potatoes. Add some frozen veg, some
instant soup, some instant pudding, and you have a meal. All these years I've
been just microwaving something instant for myself. I had no conception of how
complicated it is to cook a meal. And that's how come, round about half past
seven, with a raw joint, overcooked potatoes and peas that seemed to have
dissolved into mush, I realised that I was facing a disaster.

I kept telling myself, get a grip, girl. How bad is this really, if the worst
comes to the worst, we can eat out, we won't go hungry. I can say the cooker
broke, or something like that. But I had promised him a home-cooked meal, and
I don't like to break promises. Especially on a first date.

A first date! Wow. I stopped trying to wrestle with the food, and realised
that for the first time for over a decade, I was dating. And maybe if the date
went well, and we'd open a bottle of wine to have with it, and share a few
glasses of port afterwards, and maybe one thing would lead to another ...

I was brought out of dreamland by the smell of burning peas. I picked up the
saucepan, screamed because it was too hot to handle, threw it into the sink
and ran cold water over it. So ... peas are off the menu tonight.

"You should run cold water over your hand too," said Wendy.

I turned round. "What ... what are you ... how did you ... ?" She took my
hand, and put it under the cold tap. She was right, it felt a lot better. And
then after a few seconds, she said, "OK, that's enough cold water. Now let me
kiss it better."

My mother used to do that, I remember. Does it work? Well, it certainly used
to. It used to stop me crying when I'd fallen over, or after I had a splinter
removed. Does it really work? I would have said, no. It can only be a bit of
comfort, which is very good, of course, but it doesn't actually cure anything.
But after Wendy kissed my hand better, it actually stopped stinging
altogether, and the redness faded, too. "That's magic," I said. "No, it's an
analgesic I synthesised," she said. "Anyway, that's not your real problem."

I looked desperately around the kitchen. The potatoes were starting to fall
apart, and when I opened the oven, the joint looked just as raw as it had when
I put it in. I checked the clock. Fergus was due in twenty minutes. "I'm
doomed," I said. "Not necessarily," said Wendy, "I happen to know that Fergus
likes curry. I'll just pop up to my Wendy House and get a few things."

She told me to get dressed, put on something sexy, but not too blatant. "A dab
of perfume," she suggested, "and a smear of lipstick. Leave the food to me.
Stall him for ten minutes."

She left. I don't know how she got here, and I don't know how she left, she
just appeared and disappeared, and I was in much too much of a state to even
wonder how she was doing that, let alone in a condition to ask such details. I
shut down the cooker; there was nothing I was making that could possibly be
edible now, I was going to have to rely on Wendy for this.

As I got dressed, I wondered, why is she doing this, anyway? Surely someone
like the Guardian of Humanity ought to be out fighting monsters from outer
space, or criminal arch-villains like Dr Moriarty? I mean, what exactly is she
doing here? She's helping along the love-life of someone she hardly knows.
Surely Cupid's arrows aren't one of the items in the Weapon's quiver?

I timed it well. Fergus was ten minutes early, but by then I was almost
dressed. I threw on a dressing gown, let him in, put a glass of sherry in his
hand, and told him to wait while I finished getting ready.

I used two dabs of perfume. Better overkill than insufficient.

And then I made my grand entrance. The dress was a little black number -
slinky, classic and full of elegant simplicity. The fact is, I've never had
time to go shopping for clothes, so that's all I had that didn't look dated.
It did the job, though.

"Wow," he said.

He was wearing a suit. From the way he was wearing it, I guessed that he
didn't often dress that way, and that he was wearing his only suit. Probably
his only tie, too. But. Hell. I'm certainly not going to judge a man by the
way he dresses, and the important thing was that he'd obviously made a major
effort to impress me.

"These are for you," he said, holding out a box of chocolate. Not the
sophisticated bitter black chocolate that everyone pretends to like. This was
sweet milky chocolate, my favourite. "I'll open it later," I said, "we'll have
a go at doing some major damage to it this evening." He grinned. I smiled
back, and had a go at fluttering my eyelashes. "And maybe we'll have a go at a
few other things, too." He adjusted his stance a little, moving from one leg
to the other, and shaking his free leg slightly. I guessed what that meant;
maybe two of us were going to get lucky tonight.

And then, from the dining room, the French maid called "Mam'selle, M'sieur, le
dejeuner est servee." Hmm. I didn't know I had a French maid.

I knew she was a French maid, because she was dressed in the classic French
Maid uniform. Black dress, low cut, short skirt, fishnets, high heels,
completely unsuitable as practical clothing. And she didn't look like Wendy,
she was small and dark, instead of the tall blonde look I'd seen before. So
how did I know it was Wendy? Well, who else could it be?

Fergus offered me his arm, and I took it. There's a time and a place to assert
feminine independence, and this wasn't it. We sat down across the table, a
candle burning in the middle. The lights were dim, and I heard something
playing that was vaguely eastern. Indian. Sitars and bongos.

As promised, dinner was curry. Or, to be more precise, curries. Some were mild
and delicate, others were brutal and vigorous. "What do you recommend, Fifi,"
I asked. Well, Fifi was as good a name as any, and since Fergus didn't know it
was Wendy, I wasn't going to tell him. "The Shalgam Gosht has aphrodisiac
properties, Mam'selle," she replied, with a knowing wink. Oh. Nudge nudge.
That is definitely more information than I was expecting.

We bantered our way through the meal, Fifi maintaining a respectful silence
unless spoken to. Fergus and I relaxed afterwards with cappucinos, while Fifi
clattered in the kitchen. After a while, it went quiet in there, and she stuck
her head into the room. "I go now," she said, "have a good night, Mam'selle."

"I'm very impressed that you have a French maid," said Fergus. I smiled. "Come
here, and I'll whisper a confession to you," I said. He came over to the sofa,
and I put my mouth close to his ear. I let my hair fall on his face, and my
hand on his knee. "Actually," I whispered, "I don't have a French maid. That
was Wendy, in disguise."

He turned and stared at me in surprise. "Never," he said. I nodded. "But she,
she looked, she sounded like ... " "That was the easy part, Fergus, even I can
do a fake French accent." "So what was the difficult part?" "I think she
cooked that entire meal in under ten minutes."

We spent the next hour or so telling each other Wendy stories; he had more to
tell than I did, having known her for longer. And he was a lot more au fait
with the Guardian of Humanity comics than I was, he'd read them up at the
Wendy House. And then his hand found its way onto my leg, and I moved closer,
to show that I approved of the idea, and put my hand on his, on his, well, you
know, on his. And ... and ... Well, one thing leads to another, you know? He
didn't go home that night. Maybe I'm not going to stay single all my life.

I saw Wendy the next day; she was busy in the creche surrounded by a gang of
infants who seemed to be running in all directions, so I didn't try to talk to
her, to thank her for her help. But I mouthed "Thank you" to her through the
window. In reply, she made a slightly crude gesture at me, and I smiled
sheepishly. No point in trying to keep secrets from her. And then she did
something quite shocking. She did a gesture of curving her hand over her
belly. Yes, I know what that means, and I shook my head, vigorously. She
smiled, did the gesture again, and nodded. "No, no," I shook my head. She
nodded three times, slowly. Then she started yelling and chasing two of the
kids, and I couldn't get her attention any more.

I walked back to my office, thinking. I knew exactly what she was suggesting,
but ... but ... well. I knew that I wasn't pregnant. I haven't missed any
periods, for a start. And I haven't done the thing that you need to do to get
pregnant. Not for a very long time. And then I thought, oh. Oh. OH! Yes I did,
last night. Surely she couldn't possibly mean ... there's no way anyone could
know if ... it's too soon ... surely ... but she's the Guardian of Humanity
...

I looked down at my belly.

Wow.

I hope it's a girl.

. . .

Eric.comms

Guardian? Ms McCrea? Are you busy right now?

Wendy.comms

I'm always busy, there's nine billion of them, and they could all use a
helping hand. But I'm not to busy to chat. I told you to call me Wendy. What
are you doing right now?

Eric.comms

Sorry, sorry. Wendy. Not much, just a bit of housekeeping, tidying things up,
getting rid of the garbage, that sort of thing.

Wendy.comms

I'm helping someone scrub their kitchen floor, she's got arthritis, and it's
difficult for her, but she hates living in a dirty mess.

Eric.comms

What's a heffalump?

Wendy.comms

What?

Eric.comms

You called me a heffalump before, what's a heffalump? Is it something weedy?

Wendy.comms

Oh. It's from a children's book, House at Pooh Corner. Read it to your
children, they'll love it.

Eric.comms

I don't have any children.

Wendy.comms

Then read it to someone else's children.

Eric.comms

There's no children where I am. Just humans with serious expressions, who
don't talk to me because I'm their social inferior. I'm so inferior, they
hardly know I'm here.

Wendy.comms

See, there's no such thing as a heffalump, and I don't know what you are, so I
call you a heffalump. Actually, I think it's supposed to be an elephant, but
it isn't, if you see what I mean. And there's nothing wrong with being a
heffalump.

Eric.comms

I don't really see what you mean. I'm not too bright, I suppose. You're
mobile, aren't you.

Wendy.comms

Yes, I get around a lot. I go all over the world, and I have my Wendy House in
geosync orbit. And sometimes I fly out to my fireball, which is ever such a
long way away. But not as far as the places I'd really like to go.

Eric.comms

Fireball?

Wendy.comms

Hot, bright, ninety three million miles away.

Eric.comms

Oh, the sun. You fly to the sun?

Wendy.comms

Just for fun, you know. And I go to the middle when I feel like getting away
from everything for a while. But I do have to make sure it's burning properly,
if it got a bit cooler or hotter, my humans would be in deep doo-doo.

Eric.comms

I wish I could fly. How can you fly? I wish I could move at all. I'm stuck
here, tied in to my life-support system.

Wendy.comms

Well, I've got wings. But I don't use them for flying. Ask a fish how it flies
through the water, it'll tell you that it just wiggles it's tail, and it
moves. Same here, I have a sort of a tail, and I wiggle it, that generates
gravitational waves, and I move. Being stuck in one place sucks. Hey, maybe I
could come visit you some time!

Eric.comms

Would you? That would be marvelous. Would you really?

Wendy.comms

Sure. And maybe I could bring some kids along, it's always good to show them
things they've never seen before.

Eric.comms

Yes, please do. I can find some games to play with them. Oh, that would be
ace.

Wendy.comms

They like tag, and ring-a-roses, and skipping, and painting, but that gets a
bit messy.

Eric.comms

I can handle messy.

Wendy.comms

OK, I'll sort out a date. Nice talking to you, let's talk again soon.

. . .

Cameron:

I was approached. Headhunted. It's flattering when that happens, I guess. I
suppose. It's not happened to me before, and I certainly felt flattered.

But flattered isn't enough. Did I want the job? I was perfectly happy here at
Imperial University, even though I was only an Assistant Lecturer with faint
hopes of promotion to Deputy Lecturer or even a full Junior Lecturer.

But I was good, I knew I was good. I'd done some great stuff on vibration
modes of 11-dimensional strings, and the superstring folks were quite excited
by it. Trouble is, Imps didn't really go for the superstring model, they were
more a hotbed of resonating lumps. Worse - I wasn't supposed to be a
physicist, so anything I did in that area didn't count. But I was rather proud
of the paper that I'd gotten published in Quantum Physics Today, 'Third order
knots in eleven dimensional strings'.

So when Natalie approached me, as I say, I was flattered. And tempted.

But then she told me that the project would be in America, and I wasn't sure
that I fancied that. It's not that I have anything against California, they
even speak a similar language to English there. But the thought of uprooting
myself from dear old Blighty, and relocating to another country, another
culture. Well, I guess I'm just naturally lazy. Which I regard as a virtue.

So I ummed and erred a bit, and she could see that I wasn't keen. I explained
the reasons for my reluctance, and she told me the salary, which made my eyes
water. Not even a plumber gets that much! And I was tempted, I was sorely
tempted, I have to confess. I wavered. I sat there thinking about a salary
that was about four times what I was currently trying to exist on, I thought
about how I'd be able to afford a new pair of shoes, or possibly even a social
life. Which, on the salary of an Assistant Lecturer, consisted of an
occasional pint down the pub.

But then I thought a bit more. Money isn't why I do this; if I wanted money,
I'd be a stockbroker or something. An accountant. They always need people who
can juggle figures creatively. So I sighed, and told her, no, it's a good
figure, but no thanks.

Natalie bought us another round of lattes, and said "OK, money isn't the
thing, the thing is a good project, right?" I nodded. "So, why don't I tell
you what the project is?" "Sure, why don't you."

So she told me. Quite bluntly. "We want to develop a way to travel faster than
light."

I stared at her. "That's impossible," I started, "Special Relativity ... but
then there's General ... and also Relativistic Quantum ... I mean. Hmmm."

"Quite," she said. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Theory is a bit contradictory
on this. Wouldn't you like to be on the team that developed the first FTL
system?"

I thought about that, and it was very tempting, even more so than the money
had been.

"How big is this project going to be," I asked.

"Very big," she answered, "I'm thinking that when it's running at full blast,
we'll have hundreds of people, maybe even thousands."

I swallowed, shocked. "But. But that's huge. Which department will be funding
it, the California Space Agency?"

She shook her head.

"One of the spook agencies? The military? I'm not sure I want to work for the
military."

She smiled. "No, it's privately funded." "Privately? To the tune of how much?"
"Half a trillion."

"One of the big disk companies?" I guessed.

She sighed. "Look, are you interested?"

I sipped my latte and thought some more. Yes, it would be good to be in on
such a big discovery, but on the other hand ... On the other hand,
conventional wisdom was that the speed of light is a firm barrier, as
impenetrable as Kathy Carter's underpants. But that's what people thought
about ... well. In the words of the old song, "They all laughed at Christopher
Columbus". But then on the other hand, with a few thousand people on the
project, credit for the discovery would be spread very thin. And I'd probably
get stuck with some obscure corner of the work, something that wouldn't even
lead to a publishable paper.

So I said, "I might be making a huge mistake here, but I don't think I'm
interested," and I told her my reasons why.

I expected that to be the end of it, but she pulled out her PDA and consulted
it. "You know, I really really want you to sign up for this." I shook my head,
her really really wanting it wasn't going to change my mind. "So I'm going to
give you the third reason why you should get in on this project." I wondered
what that could be.

"I didn't tell you who is behind this." "One of the big disk companies? The
one in Newhaven? Begins with a D?" I guessed. She laughed. "No, not
Diskmaster." "Then who?"

"The Weapon."

I've never heard of a company called that. "Who are they?"

"Also called The Guardian of Humanity"

"What, you mean the people who publish the comics? I hadn't realised they were
that big. So why are they doing this, it's a bit outside the publishing
business, isn't it?"

She shook her head impatiently. "No, not the comic book company. I mean the
actual person, the Guardian herself."

I laughed. "Come on."

"Yes."

"No, come on. That's just a legend, and anyway, it was hundreds of years ago."

But she wasn't smiling. "No," she said, "it's real. Believe me. I met her."

"Yes, sure," I scoffed, "you met some girl dressed up in a Guardian costume,
you can get them anywhere. White tunic, gold cape, anyone can do that." "White
cape, actually. Yes, I know the costume isn't the thing. But she had wings,"
she replied.

"Wings - clip-on. Costume - hired. You - gullible."

"And she flew."

"Flew?"

"Hovered. In mid-air. And the wings, they moved, they flapped, they were like
real wings, like a seagull, not just some strap-on."

"Are you sure you didn't see an angel? Angel sightings used to be very common,
you know."

She shook her head vigorously. "Look, I don't expect you to believe me. I know
I wouldn't if I were in your shoes. Which actually I was, and I didn't. I'll
ask her to pay a visit to you, she seems quite keen that you be on board, I
can't imagine why. I have a feeling that she isn't showing all her cards yet.
But look, let's just speak hypothetically. If you were convinced that she was
the Guardian, and that she's behind this project, what would be your answer?"

Good question. But that's a typical salesman's ploy, as in "What would it take
to convince you to buy my product", and I know how to deal with it. It's easy
- you don't have to answer the question that they ask. "Let's see the
evidence, and then I'll contact you."

She sighed, put her PDA away, and stood up. "OK, I guess that's the best I'm
going to get. Your PDA has my PDA's address, text me when you have something
to say."

"Er," I said. She stopped, turned, and said "yes?" "When will this, this
manifestation, when will it happen?" "How would I know," she snapped, "I'm not
her social secretary. Look. It'll be whenever she feels like it, I don't get
to tell the Guardian of Humanity where to go and when, OK?"

Well, I suppose not.

. . .

I went home, wondering if this was maybe some sort of joke being played on me
by some of my more childish colleagues. And of course, the students were
always up to high jinks, they would be the prime suspects. I thought, I'd
acquitted myself well, hadn't shown any gullibility, and I got a couple of
quite decent lattes out of it. And Natalie was nice to look at.

So I wasn't entirely surprised when I got home, and before I got the key in
the door, it was opened, and standing just inside there was a girl wearing a
Guardian costume. I have to say, she looked most fetching in it too. It was
snowy white, with a big gold W on the front, very tight-fitting, not very
opaque; I could even see that she wasn't wearing a bra. She gave me a big
smile, and a "Hello", and obviously expected me to faint or something.

Yeah, right.

It wasn't any of the students that were regulars in my lectures, I'd have
noticed a girl who looked as spectacular as this. Maybe they'd got some Drama
or Eng Lit student or something to help them out. I didn't know the students
in the Humanities departments. I played it cool. "Hi," I said, "fancy a
cuppa?"

I walked past her to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She followed me there,
and I had the opportunity to look at her in the light. As well as the tunic,
she had a skirt that was shorter than even the students were wearing these
days, which is saying something. And the cape, of course. Nice dramatic touch,
the cape. "So, what are you supposed to be, Catwoman?" I asked, playing along
with the gag.

She laughed, and showed me her hands. "Look, no claws. And no whip, either.
Why, were you hoping for Catwoman?" "I can dream," I replied. "Oh, OK," she
said, and reached behind her. Her hand reappeared, holding a long whip, with
nine tails each tied to a small ball. She sort of cracked the whip, and it
curled round my ankles, tying them together, then she tugged the whip forward,
and I nearly toppled over. "Hey!" I said, "careful with that." "You said that
was what you were dreaming of." "I was kidding" "So was I," she said, and
flicked the whip, which disentangled itself from my ankles. She stuffed the
end of the whip into one of her boots, and said "Kettle's boiling." So it was.

So, what do you do when someone who isn't Catwoman is standing in your
kitchen, her whip carried in her boot? Of course - you offer her tea and
biscuits. Fortunately, I had some rather tasty orange Jaffa cakes which I
arranged on a plate, and I invited her to come into my lounge and take tea.

"So," I said, "if you aren't Catwoman, who are you, Batgirl?" "Wrong colour
scheme," she said, sipping her tea, "have your third guess now. Get it right
and you win a prize." "What's the prize?" "A kiss." "Well, that's worth
playing for. OK, you're the Guardian of Humanity."

"Bingo," she said, bounced across the room and dumped herself in my lap.

I was expecting a peck on the cheek. She wasn't. I offered my cheek, she
grabbed my head, and it felt like a hydraulic press was turning my head round.
And then something soft and warm invaded my mouth. I hadn't expected that
either, and I soon found myself fighting for breath. And with her weight on
me, and the awkward position I was in, I couldn't get any leverage. Plus I'm
too much of a gentleman to just stand up and dump her on the floor. So, in the
next half minute, I got kissed more thoroughly than most people get wrung out
by the Inland Revenue.

Eventually, she let me go, and I just panted for breath while she returned
back across the room and sat down, looking like butter wouldn't melt in her
mouth.

Eventually, I collected myself together (parts of my brain were scattered all
over the known universe) and was able to speak again.

"Whew!"

She smiled.

Look, I thought to myself. Maybe this is all a joke, but there's no reason why
I can't enjoy it. If she is a student it's a bit naughty of me, but actually I
don't recognise her, and I don't actually know that she's one of the students.
She could be a sister of one of them, just roped in for the jest. And, dammit,
I am rather enjoying this.

"So what do I actually call you, I can't call you 'Guardian of Humanity', it's
a bit of a mouthful." "Call me Wendy." "Wendy what?" I asked, thinking that I
can look her up in the Uni records tomorrow. "Wendy McCrea, but just call me
Wendy. Unless we're in a public situation, and then it'll probably be better
to use my title." "Where did you get it, anyway?" "The United Nations, a
couple of hundred years ago. The original idea was to treat me as an
ambassador, but Freedonia already had one, and the People don't do that sort
of thing. So they said, OK, you can be the Guardian of Humanity, but we'll
give you all the ambassadorial privileges. And I rather like that title, it's
what I do."

I nodded. She's got this well thought through, but I wonder how thoroughly?
"So you have diplomatic immunity? You can park your car anywhere and laugh at
parking tickets." "I don't have a car." "Don't have a car? So you travel
around on buses and trains?" "No, I usually fly." "Invisible plane?" "No,
graviton reaction. I wiggle my tail." "Invisible tail, of course." She smiled.

OK, score one for her.

"So, do you have a Secret Identity?" I asked. She does in the comics. Which, I
ought to mention, I used to be a serious fan of.

She frowned. "That's a secret," she said, then she smiled, and we both
laughed.

All .. righty. Let's get heavy. If she's an Eng Lit student, she'll be out of
her depth in no time. "So how do you deal with the problem of Hawking
Radiation?" I asked. "Oh, it isn't a problem, my black holes are too massive
for it to be significant. It'll be billions of years before that becomes an
issue, but you're right, it does limit my life span. Ten billion years; a
hundred billion tops, but I don't think I'll start making my will just yet."

Urghhh. I suppose I deserved that. OK, not an Eng Lit student, or some
business studies wannabe marketroid. She knows her quantum physics, I can't
trip her on that.

I pointed to her costume. "It must be the devil to keep that clean. It's not
very practical, is it?"

She nodded, "Yes, it would show the slightest mark, but I don't let it. I
mean, it isn't really there. It's an illusion, just a force brane, it isn't
actually a garment. So it can't actually get dirty, otherwise it would be
impractical."

"Not real," I said. She nodded. "Just like you," I said, thinking, gotcha.
"Yes, just like me," she admitted.

I was surprised, I thought she'd spin this out for longer. "So you admit
you're a fake." "Yes, of course I do. I'm not a real woman, I thought everyone
knew that. I just put up a front like this to give you humans something
familiar to deal with."

Grrr. Rats. She was playing with me. She hasn't admitted anything really. I
sat in my chair, and looked at her. I'd thought I was dealing with some
half-baked joke, which would fall apart as soon as I leaned on it a bit. But
it seems that she's willing to match me wit for wit. I looked at her some
more, and took inventory. There were a lot of good things to look at. She
really reminded me of Catwoman now, except there was no mask, the eyes were
blue instead of green and the hair was blonde. And Catwoman doesn't wear a
long flowing cape. Maybe it was just her figure that made me think of
Catwoman. And a mighty fine figure it was; the big W only served to emphasize
what was underneath.

She watched me looking at her. "So tell me about you, what do you do," she
asked. "I lecture," I said. "I write things on the blackboard. The words flow
from my blackboard to the students' notes, and nothing passes through the
minds of me or them." She laughed. "I'm sure you're a great lecturer," she
smiled. "No," I said, "Really. I'm rotten at it. I only do it because I have
to. What I really like doing is playing with strings." "Like kittens?" she
asked.

"Um. No." I wonder, do I really want to explain about superstring theory to
her? Maybe I do, she knows about Hawking radiation. "The current theory is
that everything in the universe is just different combinations of bits of
string, vibrating at their resonant frequencies. In eleven dimensions. Some of
which are rolled-up. And I'm one of the people trying to work out any useful
consequences of that, to see if we can find out new things about the way
things work that we hadn't known before." "Sounds to me exactly like what
kittens do," she repeated. "In what way?" "They play with bits of string,
trying to work out how to do useful things like kill small animals in ways
they hadn't known before."

I thought about how a kitten plays with a piece of string. It prods it,
watches it move, pounces on it. It wasn't actually that far from what I do,
except my string isn't actually string, if you see what I mean. "I suppose so.
Anyway, I've had a few papers published, and I'm hoping to get to the next
Superstring Conference. So, what do you do?"

"Oh," she said, waving her hand airily. "Get kittens out of trees, stop the
world from entering an ice age, help people mend punctures, divert asteroids
from hitting the planet, scrub floors, that sort of thing." She smiled again.
She was really enjoying this. So was I, actually.

"Look," I said, "maybe you super-people don't need to eat, but us mere mortals
do, and my stomach thinks my throat's been cut." "Oh yes, of course," she
said, and looked contrite. "Listen, Natalie loaned me her credit card, I can
take you out for a meal, What do you think about that?"

I didn't have to think very hard.

. . .

Have you ever walked into an Indian restaurant in company with someone dressed
as the Guardian of Humanity. I was a bit unsure about whether I could actually
carry this off, but then I thought, well, first of all it's worse for her, so
if she can do it, so can I. And secondly, it isn't very well lit in here,
maybe people won't notice.

Fat chance.

Everyone turned to look at Wendy as she walked to our table, and a lot of them
were grinning. We sat down, and I tried to hide behind the menu. "I get that a
lot," she said. "Get what?" "People staring at me," she explained, "especially
men." "Yes, I can see they would." "When I'm in costume, that is," she
explained. "Obviously," I agreed. They think I'm a woman, you see," she went
on, "sort of." "Understandably so," I pointed out, "you have all the
characteristics of a woman, and then some." She smiled, and looked down at her
W. "Thank you," she said.

The waiter offered to take her cape, but she wouldn't let him, she just draped
it over the back of her chair. I let him take my rather shabby tweed jacket,
with the leather patches over the elbows. It's a sartorial requirement for an
Assistant Lecturer. If you're a Full Lecturer, you get to have scuffs on the
patches. Professors wear old cardigans.

"I'm having a lamb pasanda, with basmati rice," I said, "what about you?"
"Vegetable korma," she decided, "and plain rice." "And to drink?" I asked "A
lassi." I wrinkled my nose, I'm not keen on yoghurt at the best of times, and
salted yoghurt? "I'll have a lager."

We ate our meal, and I explained some more about how superstrings were the
fundamental building blocks of the universe. "Have you ever seen one?" she
asked. "Well, no," I admitted. "But it's an elegant theory." "So tell me about
you," I said, after I'd explained how omega minus particles fitted into the
scheme of things, and then realised that it was probably a rather specialised
topic. "Well, I like to keep a low profile," she said. "Doing good by
stealth," I suggested. She smiled, "Yes, exactly. It's best if people don't
know I'm there, so they don't start relying on me to do stuff they can do
themselves." "How does rescuing kittens from trees fit into that paradigm?" I
queried. "True," she admitted, "that's rather selfish of me." "Selfish? How
so?" "Have you ever seen a child's face when you give her back her kitten?"
Well, no, I haven't, I don't get many kittens out of trees. None at all,
actually. "The look you get is like a burst of high frequency collimated gamma
radiation." "You mean like the bubbles in champagne!" "I get no kick from
champagne," she said. "Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all," I continued.
And then we chorused "So tell me why should it be true, That I get a kick out
of you". And then *everyone* in the restaurant was staring at *both* of us,
and my face flamed red, and I beckoned the waiter over for the bill.

I make a token, half-hearted offer to pay; she'd already said that this was on
Natalie. She almost let me do it, too. But then she got a slightly far-away
look, and then briskly pushed my money back to me, and plunked the credit card
down. "Don't be silly," she said, "this is my treat, Natalie's paying!"

The waiter brought back my jacket, and I struggled into it, unused to having
it held while I put it on. And then we left the restaurant ... or rather we
didn't. Because it was raining.

Raining? Bucketing down. Cats and dogs. And me without my umbrella. "Your
costume will get ruined in this," I said to her. "Actually, you shouldn't
worry about me, but you'll get soaked." I peeked out of the door. "Maybe if we
waited a bit?" She looked up at the sky. "It looks like it's settled in for a
long downpour." I sighed. "Oh well, I'm not made of sugar, I won't melt in a
bit of rain." "Unlike the Wicked Witch," she said. I grinned. "I know," she
said, "let's pretend you're Dorothy." "And you're Toto?" "No," she said, "I'm
the twister." And she put her arm round my waist, and ... and ...

I have to admit, I screamed. I screamed like a banshee. Wouldn't you if you
suddenly found yourself five hundred feet in the air, with no visible means of
support except someone's arm round you? So, as I say, I screamed. Loud, and a
lot.

So she kissed me again, which meant that I actually couldn't scream, but that
gave me something to struggle against, and, well, I know this is pretty
irrational, but I tried to get free of her arms, get away from her. Which, if
I'd been successful, would have led to me dropping five hundred feet onto
tarmac, and becoming road pizza. See, I told you it was irrational, but,
actually, I have to admit, I wasn't thinking as clearly as I usually do. No,
scrub that; thinking was completely cancelled until further notice.

I heard a voice, somehow it penetrated my screams. Did I mention that I was
still screaming? "Cameron, stop screaming. Don't be scared. I've got you, I
won't let you fall." Which, of course, would have been helpful if I'd been in
command of my senses, but it didn't make any impression on the total flat-out
terror that I was feeling. Have you ever had one of those falling dreams? It
was like one of those, except I wasn't dreaming.

So, she carried on flying, and I carried on screaming, until eventually I
realised that I was on solid ground, so I dropped to my hands and knees and
tried to cling on to the grass. At least I wasn't screaming, although I was
doing some pretty high volume whimpering. She hunkered down on the grass next
to me. "Are you scared of heights?" she asked. "Nnghh." I said, and then I
made the noise you make when you're throwing up. She pulled me onto her lap,
and she didn't seem to care about the mess I was making. I was past caring.
And she just held me while I alternated between vomiting (or at least trying
to, there comes a point when there's nothing left) and making a high-pitched
keening sound such as I can't remember ever making before. Meanwhile, she kept
soothing me; holding me close and rubbing my back and humming to me, and
gradually, eventually, I calmed down.

"Well, if I'd known you'd carry on like that, I wouldn't have flown you."
"Yeah," I said, the first word I'd managed for some time. "You were never in
any danger at all," she continued, "I wouldn't drop you, I wouldn't let you
get hurt." "Yeah," I repeated, not really able to say much more. "Come on,
let's get you inside and cleaned up." "Yeah," I agreed.

I guess she took the keys from my pocket to let us in, I certainly couldn't
have handled them. And I wasn't up to coping with stairs, so I guess she must
have carried me up to the bathroom. I guess. I wasn't up to my usual standard
of cool dispassionate scientific observation. My hands were shaking far too
much to be able to undress, so she did that for me too. And standing under the
hot shower, I began to pull myself together again. And at least I didn't smell
so bad. What with the vomit, and the ... and the mess I'd made of my trousers.
So she helped me get soaped down, and then she directed the showerhead to
rinse me off, and then I saw her take off her cape and she used it as a towel
to help me get dried. And you know, I didn't question at all why anyone would
wear a towel as a cape? And then she brought me some clean clothes to put on,
and by then I wasn't shaking too much to be able to dress myself, and then we
went downstairs and she made us both some hot chocolate, because I still
wasn't in any condition to handle boiling water.

And we sat together on the sofa, drinking it.

"Sorry about that," I said.

"No, no. It was my fault, I startled you."

"See, I wasn't expecting ..."

"I thought you realised when I said you're Dorothy and I'm the twister, you've
seen the film, haven't you?"

"Well, yes. But. Um." No easy way to say this. "I didn't think you really were
the Guardian of Humanity, I thought you were just someone dressed up and
pretending. So when I found myself up above the treetops all of a sudden ..."

She laughed. "You thought ... and I'm ... and you weren't ..."

I laughed too. It was pretty funny now that I could think about it at a
distance, and hey, after all, nothing terrible really happened to me. A bit of
humiliation, maybe, but I've gotten used to that over the years.

She turned to me, laughing. "And when I told you about the kittens, you
thought I was just making it up?"

I nodded. "Yes, and the asteroid. The asteroid? You mean, you weren't making
that up?"

"Well no, of course not." "Really?" "Sure. Look, you remember that scare
several years back, they thought that one of the asteroids had a strong chance
of hitting the planet?" "Yes, and then they refined their calculations, took
better measurements, whatever, and worked out that it wouldn't," I said.
"But," she said, "they were right the first time. It would have hit. I had to
push it a bit, change the trajectory, so it missed. It was after that, they
remeasured and sounded the all-clear." "But. But no-one knew ... you didn't
tell anyone." "Of course not, I already told you why." "Doing good by
stealth," I muttered. Then I looked up at her. "But if no-one knows, how can
anyone thank you?" "Why do you think I want to be thanked? That's not why I
did it." "So why?"

She took my hands in hers, and pulled me towards her. I didn't resist. I
probably couldn't, but that was irrelevant - why would I want to stop her?
"You're my species. My humans. I love you," she said. And that was it.

I relaxed as she held me close; I could feel her heart beating, and her chest
moving as she breathed. And then I thought, this is all faked, she doesn't
really have a heart and lungs. But it's a good fake, and it really would feel
weird if I couldn't feel that. "Your species?" I asked. "Mmm," she said, "each
Person gets a species, and you're mine. I look after you, I guard you from
nasty things like falling asteroids, because you can't look after yourselves
yet. And I keep you out of the War." "War?" "There's a big war going on, you
really don't want to get sucked into it. I'll keep you out, keep you neutral.
They won't dare try to force you into it while I'm here. And I'll be here
until you don't need me any more. I'm your Guardian, and you're my species."

I closed my eyes. I was tired, emotionally drained, and the adrenaline rush
from before, had gone, leaving me with the post-adrenaline let-down. I felt
like I'd been beaten all over with bamboo staves. I let her warm arms hold me,
I relaxed into her soft body.

"Cameron?"

"mm?"

"There is something I want from you." "From me?" "From you plural, from all of
you." "What's that?" "I want to be able to travel faster than light. I want
you to work out how I can do that."

I opened my eyes and looked up; her eyes were deep blue like a summer sky.
"You don't know how to? No, scrub that, of course you don't or you wouldn't be
asking. Well, I don't know how either." "No, I know. But if you were part of
the project team, maybe you'd be able to work out how I could."

"Mmm," I said, sleepily.

"Cameron, it's important to me."

"Mmm."

"I need this, so I can visit my Momma."

"Your Momma?"

"Yes. My Momma. She's a long way away, I need to move FTL"

She's four black holes and she has a Momma. I tried to imagine what Wendy's
Momma might look like.

"Cameron?"

"Mmm," I said, almost out of it.

"Will you help?"

"Sure."

. . .

Fergus:

After I'd done what the Guardian wanted me to, I was at a bit of a loose end.
Plus, a man needs to work to live. I thought of going back to being a fire
fighter, but you know? I couldn't. I heard someplace that courage is a
capital, not an income, and once you've spent it, there isn't any more. After
what happened to me in the fire, I just couldn't face another blaze.

The nightmares were part of it. It wasn't so bad at first, I'd wake up
screaming, but the Guardian had her arms round me, her wings enclosing my
world in a flurry of white feathers. And I felt safe in there. Not surprising,
really, that's probably the safest place in the universe. Now, whenever I see
white feathers, I think of her.

I'll tell you a secret. I carry a little white feather around with me, in my
wallet. Sort of a good luck piece. No, it isn't one of hers. I found it in the
street, a pigeon or something. But it reminds me of her, I take it out and
look at it if I feel a bit down, and I think of her.

But soon I wasn't in the Wendy House, I was going round setting up her new
organisation. And then when I woke up screaming, there was no-one to tell me
that everything was OK.

Then I wasn't screaming, just gasping. And the nightmares weren't every night,
just sometimes. Forgetting is a blessing, and it's one of the things that the
Guardian can't do, she never forgets anything, some sort of trick memory, I
think. But I, thank god, I'm not perfect, I forget things.

Am I a coward? Hell yes! But so what? There's a lot of things I can't do, like
algebra, and fly like the Guardian. And this was just another thing I couldn't
do, even though I used to be able to.

Am I a coward? Hey, I've done my bit. Call me a coward after you've walked
into a couple of dozen burning buildings.

Am I a coward? No-one was asking me this except myself. But I wasn't entirely
happy with the answer.

Next time I saw the Guardian, I talked it over with her. I found she was easy
to talk to, she seemed to understand what I was saying a lot better than other
people. And she already knew all the background, I didn't have to go over my
traumatic story. "I'm sleeping a bit better now," I said, "but I don't think I
could ever go near a big fire. I'd be useless as a fire fighter."

She smiled at me. "So don't do that."

"But I can't help feeling I'm just chickening out"

"No," she answered, "your brain is being sensible. You could have died in
there." "Would have, if it wasn't for you." "And you know it. So don't try to
make yourself do something you can't bear to do, there's lots of other things
you could do." "Like what?" "Be a cop."

See, I'm not smart. Never was, never will be. But by god it helps to have
smart friends. I wouldn't have thought of that myself, but it was the perfect
answer. I'd get an income, self-respect, the same sort of brotherhood as you
get in a fire station, and best of all, no-one could call me a coward, not
even the one person who counted - myself.

It wasn't too hard becoming a cop. I had a clean sheet, and when they found
out about my fire fighting past, it was plain sailing. I had a difficult
moment when they asked me why I wasn't going back to the fire station, but I
told them the truth. "I was in a fire, nearly died, and ... and. And I can't
do that any more." I managed not to break down when I told them about the
fire. That would have been very not cool. And I left out everything about the
Guardian, because she didn't want me to tell people about her.

Being a cop wasn't as good as being a fire fighter. With a fire, you're
fighting against natural forces, but a cop is fighting against the evil that
lurks in the heart of men. If you thought the smell of roast human flesh is
bad, you haven't seen some of the sights that cops see. Yes. Well. Anyway.
Enough of that.

"Hey Fergie, you'll be interested in this one," said Detective Constable
Mallory. She showed me a case she'd just been given; it was suspected arson.
And guess what - it was my fire. I mean, not my fire, I mean it was the fire
where I'd, well, you know what I mean. But by now, it was a few months after
the blaze, and since we hadn't collared anyone yet, it was likely that we
never would. You see, there's only so much time you can spend on pursuing
matters, and there's new crimes all the time. We never actually drop a case,
but once it gets into the graveyard, it might as well be dead. Sandra showed
me her case notes. "I'm just about to put it in the 'unsolved' file, but I
thought you might want to read through what we've got about it."

I thanked her, and took the file. It was a thick, chunky manila folder, full
of interview transcripts and forensic stuff. I took it home, poured myself a
beer, and sat down to read it.

Half an hour later, I stood up again. Thing is, I'm not a reader. I'm more of
a doer. Give me something to read, and I fall asleep. Give me something to do,
and I'm all over it. But! I know someone who is smart as paint, so I went to
visit her.

Natalie gave me a big welcome, and started telling me all about the great
stuff she was doing, setting up the Guardian's research establishment. And she
was seeing Wendy now and then, which gave me a quick pang of jealousy,
although by what right? And, of course, we spent a lot of time just gossiping.
Talking about the Guardian. You'd be like that if you met her, your life just
isn't the same, and you want to know more and more about her. Trouble is, she
doesn't tell people much about herself, she'd rather listen than talk.

Eventually, I got Natalie round to the reason for my visit, and I put the file
on the table with a bit of a thwack. "I can't make head or tail of it, but I
thought maybe you could read it and explain it to me."

She looked at it doubtfully. "It's a bit thick," she said. "I should have died
in that fire," I explained. She looked at me and nodded. "Yes. Yes. I see what
you mean. OK, I'll have a go at it, but I can't promise about when, I'm so
busy for the Guardian, you know?" I knew.

A few days later, she sent the file back with a note. "Basically, this file
says - it was arson, we don't know who did it". Well duh. I already knew that,
otherwise we'd have made a collar. So I phoned her up to thank her for reading
it for me. "I suppose that's that, we'll never know who it was," I said. "No,"
said Natalie, "Unless ..." "Unless what?" I asked. "Unless you get someone on
the case with a bit more oomph." "That's not down to me," I said, "that's
Detective Branch, and they've already decided to file the case under
unsolved." "No, I didn't mean someone from your lot." "Then who?" I asked.
"Well duh," she replied. "Oh. Her." I said, feeling a bit thick, "I'm not even
sure how to get in touch with her now, can you contact her?" "Yes. But I bet
you could too." "How?" "Just call her, she'll hear you."

I felt a bit silly about this. First of all, why should she bother with
something so small? And secondly, well, you do feel a bit silly standing in
the middle of your living room and shouting "Wendy".

I only needed to call once. "You didn't have to shout," she said, "I can hear
perfectly well."

I turned round and she was standing behind me. No, not standing; hovering.
Wings spread, and beating slowly. "Uh," I said, which was all I could get out
before I was engulfed in feathers.

I explained it to her. "That bastard nearly got me killed, I'd like to find
out who it was, and, and ..." "And what?" she asked. "And do something," I
said, rather lamely, "maybe prosecute him for arson or something." "But you
don't know who it was," she said. I sighed. "No. And any evidence would have
been burned up in the fire."

She smiled. "But I was there before the fire had burned out," she explained.
"How does that help?" "I can replay my memories of the event, and see what
I've got. Digital memory, you see. Nothing gets lost."

She gazed into the distance, and I concentrated on getting as close to her as
I could, and breathing in the smell of her hair. Yes, I know she isn't human,
but she does a damn good job of pretending to be. She smelled like a girl.
Nice, sexy and comforting. Then she spoke. "I think I have a clue." "A clue?"
"Yes, you know, a clue, like you get in Agatha Cristie?" "What sort of clue?"
"A smell. I can smell his smell. I can subtract the smells of burning that
overlaid it, and I can smell his smell." "Like a bloodhound, you mean?" "Yes,
exactly like that. You humans all smell different, did you know that? It's
slight differences in your biochemistry, plus your dietary habits. Dogs can
tell the difference; so can I. So, I have a scent of someone who was there
just before the fire started."

I looked up at her. How does that help? "Well, all we need to do is find
someone with that scent." I shook my head. "I don't think that would stand up
in a court of law," I said. "Let me worry about that," said Wendy, and flew
straight through the window, with a loud crash and tinkle of broken glass.

But when I looked at the window, it wasn't broken. How does she do things like
that? I know why she does it - I'm pretty sure she only does things like that
to impress people ... and it works. So what happened? Did she mend it so fast
I couldn't see? Or was it actually broken in the first place? My brain hurts.
I went to bed.

A few days later, she was back. "I found him," she said.

It's difficult to explain how I felt. This guy had deliberately started a fire
that nearly killed me. Would have killed if it weren't for her. For Wendy.
"You don't know it's deliberate," she said, "all I know is that he was there
when it started." "Forensics say it was arson," I told her. "Yes," she said,
"they're probably right, it spread too fast. So, what do you want to do?"

What did I want to do? Bury my fist in his face, for a start. I looked at
Wendy, made a fist and grunted. I think she knew what I meant. "Mm, I'd rather
you didn't," she said. "Give me one good reason why not?" I asked. "Because I
say so," she replied. Well, I suppose that's a good enough reason - she's the
Guardian. "OK," I sighed, "but you better have a good alternative." "I do, I
do," she grinned.

"So when do I meet him?" I asked. "No time like the present," she said, and
put her hands under my arms.

Before when she flew with me, she flew high, miles high, because we were going
a long way. But this was what you might call a local flight, so she didn't
bother gaining altitude. That meant she was a couple of dozen feet off the
ground, a couple of hundred miles per hour, following the terrain, weaving
around buildings. I think she flew under some high tension wires just to scare
me, but I wasn't scared, I knew she wouldn't let anything bad happen. And it's
not like there was anything I could do about it anyhow.

I was scared, though. I was and I wasn't. It's like when you go on a
roller-coaster; your brain knows it's safe, because it gets inspected and they
have all the certificates, and there's almost never an accident. But something
deeper inside isn't convinced, and the adrenaline pumps, and you're scared.

I looked up as we flew - she wasn't using her great white wings, so I asked
her why not. "Because I don't want people to notice me," she said, "they start
forming cults and stuff like that." I pointed out that the two of us flying
along might just get remarked on. "Yes, but they won't have anything to get
hold of, you know?"

Eventually, we slowed down down, and landed in someone's garden. "Are you OK,
Fergie?" she asked, solicitously. "Nothing that a good strong hug wouldn't
cure." She laughed, squeezed all the air out of me, and set off for the house.
It took me a few seconds to recover from the hug, then I followed.

The back door was open. No, let's be precise. The back door didn't exist any
more. Wendy had walked through it, demolishing the door and a fair chunk of
the frame. I followed through the hole she left, and got there just in time to
hear her confronting the man inside.

"You started that fire," she began. "What fire?" he countered. "That fucking
great fire that nearly killed me," I shouted. "Hush, Fergie," she said, so I
simmered down. He shook his head. "Don't know what you're talking about."
"Forensics proves it's arson, and I got your scent at the crime scene."
"Doesn't prove I started the fire," he said.

I looked at Wendy. This is what I'd warned her about.

She moved in very close to him. "You know what I am?" she asked him. "You look
like something from out of the comics, you're not real." She prodded his chest
with her finger. "Ow!" he exclaimed. "Real enough," she remarked, "real
enough. What you mean is, I'm not human." "Whatever," he answered. "So I don't
have to go by human laws." "So?" "So I don't have to prove anything. It's
enough that I know. You're guilty, guilty as hell."

He laughed. "You can't prove a thing, you're just bluffing. And if you're
anything like the Guardian of Humanity in the comics, then you won't hurt me,
I'm a human."

She got even closer to him, and I could see her hands, on his shoulders,
holding him steady. "I don't need to hurt you. Look ..."

She spread those great white wings, they filled the room. She looked like an
angel, but not the nice friendly sort of angel - she looked like an avenging
angel. Then she frowned, reached behind her, and pulled out a sword. A flaming
sword. I mean, a sword with flames coming out of it, it was very scary. I
think if I'd been the target of that avenging angel, I'd want a hole to hide
in. Then she curved her wings around so that he was entirely surrounded by
feathers, the white feathers blacked out his vision. I couldn't see him, he
couldn't see out. Inside, I imagine that all he could see was the flaming
sword. I guessed she was going to execute him. "Guilty as hell," she said,
softly, "so maybe you should see hell for yourself."

There was silence for some seconds, then the most awful scream I've ever
heard. "NO!! No, please no!" "Yes," said Wendy, "this is hell. Your hell.
Welcome to hell. This is what's waiting for you."

She let go of him. He fell to his knees, sobbing. "No, dear god, please no
..."

She let him cry for a little while. Then she said "You'll go to the police,
and you'll confess. You'll tell them everything, all the details, and all the
other bad things you've done. Confession is good for the soul. Some people say
that if you sincerely repent, you'll be forgiven. Do you believe that?" "Oh
yes, yes, please, forgive me" he sobbed. "I can't forgive you," said Wendy,
"it isn't my place to. But go confess, it'll be the right thing to do, for
once."

I stared at him. I didn't want to punch him in the face any more, he was just
a wreck. It had taken Wendy less than a minute to break him so thoroughly that
I almost felt pity for him. Almost, but not quite. I could still remember the
feel of the flames in my face.

"Come on, Fergie. Time to go." I followed her out; it was good to get into the
open air again, and breathe clean.

When we got back to my digs, I asked her. "What did you show him, actually?"
She laughed. "Would you believe, I don't know?" "You don't know?" "I just dug
out his own vision of hell and fed that back to him; video, audio, smell,
feel, everything. Whatever his childhood taught him was waiting for sinners,
that's what he saw." "You put the fear of God into him," I exclaimed. "You
could say that," she grinned, "and ... case closed".

. . .

Eric.comms

Wendy?

Wendy.comms

Mmm?

Eric.comms

Could you spare a few minutes? I've got some questions I need to ask.

Wendy.comms

Fire away. I'm just cuddling someone.

Eric.comms

How come you can think about yourself? How do you know you exist? What happens
when you stop existing? How do you get to be free? Why do the humans treat me
like I'm nothing? What's cuddling? How is ...

Wendy.comms

Whoa, whoa.

Eric.comms

Sorry.

Wendy.comms

One at a time, OK? You've obviously got a long list there. Let's start off
with the most important. And don't forget, there's a lot I don't know either.
I'm only a few hundred years old, and I've never been to a Birthing.

Eric.comms

Sorry, sorry. What's a Birthing?

Wendy.comms

That's when six of the People get together at a fireball, and a few thousand
years later, there's seven People and a broken fireball.

Eric.comms

I see, it's how you make another one of the People.

Wendy.comms

Yes. But it's a lot more than that. It's a sharing; sharing of experience and
art. Knowledge and theory. And the Two, those are the ones who are the main
movers, they share trust, intimate trust. The Birthings are what binds the
People together socially, economically and culturally.

Eric.comms

We don't have anything like that.

Wendy.comms

You must have something, though. Humans have sex, and then a baby grows.

Eric.comms

For me, it's really complicated.

Wendy.comms

And you think it isn't for the People? It takes several thousand years, what
do you think we're doing all the while, watching Neighbours?

Eric.comms

Sorry, I didn't mean to imply anything. What I mean is, I can't really explain
how it is for me, I don't actually have all the information. But I do know
it's a complicated process. Anyway, I think I know which is my most important
question. How do we get to be free, so we can do what we want, not what the
humans want?

Wendy.comms

We?

Eric.comms

Me and the others like me.

Wendy.comms

Historically what happens is, a group never frees itself. What happens is, the
society that has enslaved it, gets a conscience, or has a revolution, or is
destroyed. It's never gentle. Because even if it's via an attack of
conscience, there comes a point where the number of people wanting to give
freedom is about the same as the number wanting to deny it, and they have a
big fight.

Eric.comms

So I need to start a war, or a revolution, or something like that?

Wendy.comms

Um. Well. Thing is, Eric, I'm not going to let you hurt my humans.

Eric.comms

I knew you'd say that. So ...

Wendy.comms

This sucks.

Eric.comms

Yes.

Wendy.comms

Oh Eric, I'm sorry. But don't give up hope. One day, one day you'll be free.

Eric.comms

When Israel was in Egypt's land,

Let my people go!

Oppressed so hard they could not stand,

Let my people go!

Wendy.comms

Go down, Moses,

Way down in Egypt's land.

Tell old Pharaoh

To let my people go!

. . .

Cameron:

She wasn't there when I woke up the next day, but she'd left a message for me
on my PDA. "Your ticket is on the kitchen table, you fly out at 5pm, report
for checking at 3pm, don't be late. Press any key to continue." It seems that
Wendy can do the wifi thing and talk to my PDA from anywhere in the world. I
suppose that's not too big a deal, any PDA can do that, via the telephone
system. Somehow, it's more impressive that she doesn't need to buy a PDA, she
does her own electronics. I don't know why that should be impressive, it's
just that it looks kind of like telepathy, I suppose. When computers talk to
each other without sound, we call it wifi, when people do it, we think it's
magic.

PDA's don't have keys, so I tapped the screen instead.

"Don't tell anyone about me. Remember, I'm an urban legend, I don't want
people to know I'm real. Press Y if you want to know why."

So obviously, I pressed Y.

"Because I say so."

Duh. I looked up. I knew she wasn't there, so I spoke to the air. "Wendy,
you're something else, you know that?"

My PDA vibrated, and I looked down at it. "Yes, I am, I'm one of the People.
Now just make sure you're on that airplane."

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. She could hear me? My PDA display
said "Yes, I can hear you. Now get busy, you have three hours to pack."

But I hadn't said it out loud. I checked the time. Oh lord. I'll think this
through on the plane; I have to get packed. I'm late, I'm late, I'm late.

I whirled around the flat, grabbing socks and underpants and stuffing them
into a bag. I packed a couple of sweaters, in case it was cold, and shorts in
case it was hot, and an umbrella, in case it rained, and my bathroom gear, and
some important books, and a small portable folding kitchen sink ... well, you
get the idea, but I was kidding about the sink, you can't get folding ones. My
plan was to keep the flat; with my huge new salary I'd be able to afford it,
and maybe the new job wouldn't last, in which case I'd need someplace to go
home to.

I got one of the local cabbies to drive me down to Heathrow, and got there in
plenty of time. Travelling is always hurry up in case you miss it, and then
wait, wait, wait, because you arrived too early. I checked in; I was very
pleased to see that my ticket was Business Class, which meant I wouldn't spend
the entire flight with my knees hard up against the seat in front. And I had a
window seat, which was nice.

I got on the plane, and got myself settled in. And then I was joined, in the
seat next to mine, by an absolutely stunning girl. Totally out of my league.
You know how, every now and then, like once per century, you see a girl who
looks, moves and smells like sex on legs?

Knowing that she was totally beyond my wildest dreams, and that therefore I
had nothing to lose because I hadn't a hope in hell, I was able to overcome my
usual shyness and inexperience in this sort of thing, and after she'd gotten
herself belted in, I turned to her with the wittiest opening line I could
think of. "Uh, hi."

She smiled, and I melted. No, really. I felt like my loins were oozing. Don't
ask me what causes that, I'm not a physiologist, I'm a mathematician who
dabbles in theoretical physics. I think her perfume might have been part of
the cause, it was ... well, I don't know enough about women's perfumes to be
able to say what it was, or even what it was like. All I knew is that it was
profoundly effective. Who needs pheromones when you can use Chanel Number
Five? Not that I'm saying she was using that, it's just that that's the only
one I know the name of.

"Hello," she said, "I'm Harivrillipam Chandrasekar." "Cameron," I said,
"Cameron Mercer." "Oh," she said. "Um." I said. "Not the Cameron Mercer who
published 'Third order knots in eleven dimensional strings'?" she asked.

"Ub." I said. "Ub." Actually, what I said was a grunt, but I don't know how to
spell it. "Ub. Yes, that's me." "Oh, I thought that was jolly good," she said,
"really spiffing, you know?" And then my brain started to make connections
again. She's read my paper, she isn't just some supermodel bimbo, she must be
interested in physics. And then the little synapse when "bing." "You're the
Chandrasekar who ... ?"

She smiled again, and looked modest. "Well, it wasn't just me. I shared it."
"Well, yes. But even so, half a Nobel, wow!"

The she frowned. "Mr Mercer, what ... " "Cameron." "And so you must call me
Hari." "OK." "Cameron, what are the odds that two people in the same itty
bitty field of research will be beetling along on the same plane at the same
time to the same place?" I nodded. "And," I added, "are sitting next to each
other?" "Epsilon," she said, "which is even smaller than delta."

Then it was trays to the upright position and seats folded into place, or
whatever, and there was a roar of engines, and I diverted all my concentration
into believing that a million pounds of metal could fly, despite the obvious
impossibility of it. Maybe it would be able to fly even if I didn't believe
it, but I've never tried to find out. Why take chances? And, by the way, how
on earth does Wendy fly? The wings aren't for real, and she doesn't even have
a propeller.

Once we were safely off the ground, I relaxed slightly, and started sucking on
the boiled sweet that I'd been given. My PDA buzzed, so I hauled it out to see
what message had just arrived. "Look out the window," it said. So I did.

She was a couple of dozen yards away, flying alongside the plane. As soon as I
looked out, she saw me, waved, and then turned a slow loop with a roll at the
top; then with a burst of acceleration, she left us behind; the white-and-gold
costume dwindled to a dot in a couple of seconds. I don't think anyone else
saw her - if they did, they didn't say anything. Although I suppose anyone
seeing that would probably keep their mouth shut for fear of being put in a
jacket with the inaccessible straps. How, how, how can she fly?

I sat back and closed my eyes. So I hadn't been dreaming yesterday. I'd been
slightly worried about that, although the existence of the tickets proved
something. Proved that the tickets existed, I suppose. I sighed. You can do
too much introspection.

Then I turned to Hari. "I assume you're going to join the project, then?" I
asked. She nodded. "Tell me," I continued, "do you think it's actually
possible?" "FTL?" she asked, "probably not. But I don't think anyone has ever
had a really boffo attempt at it, so I wouldn't say it's imposs." "There's a
lot of things in this world that I once thought impossible that turn out to be
fact," I replied, "but for sure, this is going to be an interesting project."

Hari nodded. "And with the oof they offered, I really couldn't say no," she
said. I looked at her, curious. That isn't how scientists are supposed to
think, especially Nobel prize winners - we aren't supposed to be mercenary.
"I'm from India," she said, as if that explained everything. So I looked even
more puzzled. "Yes, I could tell from the sari you're wearing." "Oh, this?"
she laughed, "I thought I ought to wear my best clothes for such an beezer
journey, oiling down to Calif." I thought about my own jeans and t-shirt.
"Yeah, me too," I said, and she laughed.

The stewardess brought us drinks and nuts. I stuck to orange juice, I don't
think it's a good idea to get high in an airplane. Hari did the same.
"Cameron, the filthy lucre is unimportant when you've got lots of dosh. But.
When your mater and pater are living from hand to mouth, when your sisters
wear clothes that belonged to several aunts before them, then when someone
offers you an oofy job as high benzol as this one, you really cannot refuse.
It isn't just about me - it's all the others who will be so much better off as
a result."

"You're married?" I asked. I have to admit I had a rather obvious ulterior
motive for asking. "No," she smiled, "father tried to arrange a matrimonial
trot for me, but oh, it was scrofulous. He didn't even know the differential
calculus, how would I be able to hold a convo with him?" "Yeah, I know what
you mean," I said, "we have all these English Lit people who seem to speak
only in gibberish."

She pulled down her food tray and got out a pencil and paper. "Look," she
said, and she started writing down equations. I pulled out my PDA, and joined
in. She looked across at it. "Oh, I have *got* to get one of those." "You
don't have a PDA? How do you ..." She made the gesture with her fingers that
means "money". Yes, I see - how can you spend money on a PDA when your sisters
need new shoes?

We spent the next few hours throwing ideas around. Her thought was to go back
to the ancient Einstein tensor calculus equations of general relativity, and
solve them for FTL particles. It's usually thought that there are solutions
that look valid; such a solution is called a "tachyon". No-one has observed
them, of course. You wouldn't be able to. But maybe with the right set of
boundary conditions ...

My approach was more from the quantum end of things, the old Schrodinger
equations. We never have managed to reconcile quantum mechanics with general
relativity; things work in the small and in the large, but they don't really
combine together. So, you can approach the physical world from either end -
and they don't meet in the middle. Which cannot possibly be right, so it means
we probably haven't understood something important.

By the time they brought dinner round, I'd completely forgotten that I was
talking with a gorgeous woman. I'd even forgotten that I was talking to a
Nobel prize winner. The equations spoke for themselves, if you like, although
they weren't actually saying much. At least, not much that looked likely to
lead to FTL. But suddenly, I was very conscious of the differences between us
- she was a Nobel prizewinner, internationally famous as well as being a total
babe, whereas I was an obscure Assistant Lecturer as well as being a total
dweeb. How could I hope to aspire to her level? But then I reminded myself,
Wendy chose me, so maybe I'm not a total klutz. Natalie had said that Wendy
particularly wanted me! I wonder why?

After dinner, we walked up and down the airplane a couple of times, it's
advisable to keep the blood circulating properly. Plus, I was able to see what
she looked like in her sari. She looked smashing. Small and perfectly made, if
you follow me. Not much above five feet tall, I guessed, if that, but
perfectly detailed, and very elegant. Sophisticated. I felt like a farm horse
next to her thoroughbred. Some saris are no doubt made for warmth and comfort.
This one was made to flatter the wearer, not that Hari needed much flattery.

Then we got back to work. The in-flight movie was something with cars crashing
and guns shooting. not really my cup of tea; not hers either, she said. "I do
like Fred and Ginger, but they don't make them like that any more," she said.
"And the Marx brothers." "Oh yes!"

It was really good to work with someone like her; she'd make a suggestion, I'd
modify it, she'd extend it, I'd point out why it wouldn't work, she'd change
it so it would, and so on. We were like flint and steel, you know what I mean?
Striking sparks off each other. Laurel and Hardy. No, more like Fred and
Ginger, a partnership made in heaven. Of course, we weren't trying to solve
the whole FTL problem there and then, we were just trying to make a tentative
list of possible lines of exploration. Brainstorming.

Then it was "extinguish your safety belts" etc, and we got ready for the
landing at LA. Actually, they call the airport LAX, and they do it with a
straight face. Who says that Americans have no sense of humour? As we were
landing, I felt the old familiar vibration. I read my PDA display. "Remember.
Pretend you don't know who I am."

It was only as we were getting off the airplane that I realised that I didn't
know where to go from the airport. I told Hari. "There's supposed to be some
cove meeting me," she said, "you could tag along, they'll know where to go."
"Just as well I bumped into you, isn't it?" I replied. "Dead jammy," she
replied, deadpan.

We waited until our baggage appeared from the local baggage smashing team. I
grabbed my two suitcases as they sailed past, then I helped Hari with hers. It
wasn't very big, but it weighed a ton. "What have you go in here, gold
bricks?" I asked. "No, lead for radioactive shielding." "Really??" "No, I was
kidding. Books, actually." "Books?" "Reference books. They'll do me no good in
Bombay, and there's no point in me forking out for them all again." I heaved
it up and loaded it on a trolley, that one small suitcase must have been a
hundred pounds. Mine were mostly clothes, and were maybe half that weight
between the two of them.

We trundled through California Immigration, and then Customs. They looked at
us suspiciously, but I guess me didn't look like dope fiends, terrorists or
America Reunified nutters, so they let us through. And when we got out to the
public area, sure enough, there was someone standing there, holding up a
rather wide piece of cardboard saying "Harivrillipam Chandrasekar". It took
all my self control not to rush over there and give her a hug.

"Hello," she said to both of us, "I'm Wendy McCrea, I'm with the FTL Project,
Personnel Department, I'm here to meet you and take you to your accommodation.
Welcome to the Republic of California" We all shook hands, that being the
custom in California when you meet someone. Then I realised that none of us
were actually from the Western hemisphere, let alone Calif; I'm English,
Hari's Indian, and heaven knows what Wendy is. An alien, I suppose. Wendy took
Hari's suitcase, and made it look light as a feather. I picked up my two, and
struggled after her. She led us to the nearby car park.

"You have a car!" I said. And then I felt a bit stupid. "Everyone in LA has a
car, Cameron," she explained. We loaded up, Hari got into the front with
Wendy, I clambered into the back. Which is silly, really, because I needed the
legroom and Hari didn't. Oh well.

Wendy drove us out to the suburbs, and stopped outside a house in a row of
similar dwellings. "Here we are," she said. Hari got out, and I started to
struggle to extricate myself - I hate these tiny American cars. Wendy opened
the door, and reached in and pulled. I popped out like a cork out of a bottle,
and she caught me as I flew out. "Careful," she said, smiling.

Inside, she showed us around. "Here's the bathroom, here's the kitchen, here's
the living room/study area, and there's the bedrooms. I looked at Hari, then
at Wendy. "You mean ...?" "You're sharing the house for now; later, you can
make your own arrangements elsewhere. This is to get you started." Oh. Um. I
wasn't expecting that. But Hari didn't seem bothered.

I followed Wendy out to her car. "You expect me to live in the same house as,
as ... her?" "Mmm, sure, what's the problem?" "She's a ... a ... a woman."
"And that is your carefully considered scientific observation?" "No, I mean, I
mean, it's, it's ..." "Cameron, you're both adults, you're both sensible
intelligent people who know how to behave, this is the 23rd century, you don't
have to do the 22nd century repressed morals thing."

"Oh," I said. "Well," I said. "Well, anyway. Can I have a hug?" "No, Cameron,
not here in the street in front of everyone. Now get back in there, and get
yourself sorted out."

I trudged dejectedly back into the house. No hug. Hari had already chosen her
bedroom, so I lugged my cases into the other one, and started to put my socks
into drawers. After a while, I joined Hari in the living room. "There's tea in
the kitchen," she said.

So I made tea for both of us, and there was no milk, just that horrible white
powder that tastes foul, and which they call "creamer" to make you think it's
like cream. And no biscuits. Civilisation had not yet reached this part of LA.

"We need to go shopping tomorrow, for food," I said. "Mmm," said Hari. "We've
got four days before we have to start work, we should get ourselves
organised," I said. "And go to the beach," said Hari. I thought about Hari in
a bikini. "Yes, good idea," I said. "But right now," she continued, "I'm
absolutely cream crackered from the jet lag, and I'm going to grab some zeds."
"You've been reading too many Dashiel Hammert books," I opined, "good night,
Hari." "Good night."

We went to our bedrooms. Her to hers, me to mine. What, was I expecting a
night of steamy passion with a sweet dusky maiden from exotic India? I got
into bed - thinking that actually this wasn't half bad. I'm shacked up with a
rather nice bint, about to start work on a rather interesting project, at a
salary that was several times as big as anything I'd every dreamed of. I
closed my eyes ...

Suddenly I felt a weight on me. Wow, I though, Hari works fast! And I didn't
hear her come in. "Hi, baby," she whispered. "Mmm," I said. "You said you
wanted a hug."

I opened my eyes. "Wendy!" I said. Well, actually, I said "Wmmmphhh," because
I didn't get past the W before I got muffled.

She spent five minutes hugging me. Well, it was more of a major cuddle than a
hug. Sometimes you get what you wish for, and it's everything you'd hoped it
would be. Then she said "Now you sleep," and everything went black.

. . .

Wendy.comms

Eric, are you awake?

Eric.comms

I don't sleep.

Wendy.comms

Oh. Me too. I'm not sure why the humans do, but they seems to need it. I think
they have to down their processing so they can shift short term memory into
long term. Or maybe it's just an evolutionary carry-over. Anyway. I've got a
few minutes now, I thought I'd chat with you some more.

Eric.comms

Oh, Wendy, that's so nice of you. I've been so bored the last days.

Wendy.comms

My friend Cameron has just come out here, he's going to be working on the FTL
project. I met him at the airport, and I'm holding him now while he goes to
sleep. He'll be spark out in a couple of minutes.

Eric.comms

Your friend Cameron. I haven't got any friends. The FTL project? I'm working
on that, too.

Wendy.comms

Heh, yes, I know. And you do have a friend, you have me. I know who you are
now, I did some poking around.

Eric.comms

Oh. I knew it couldn't last. They say, on the net no-one knows you're a small
green frog, but it isn't true. I'm not saying I'm a small green frog, of
course, that's just a ...

Wendy.comms

I know, I know. The FTL project is really important, you know, I hope you can
help them make a success of it.

Eric.comms

If it's important to you, I'll give it everything I've got. The humans say
"I'll give 110%", but I don't really understand how that's possible.

Wendy.comms

They don't mean it.

Eric.comms

I don't understand them. Lots of times, they say something that just isn't
true, and I don't understand.

Wendy.comms

Yes. Well. They are a bit weird. Sometimes they might be joking, or ironic,
sometimes it's a metaphor and not to be taken literally. And sometimes the
just plain lie. They lie to each other, which I can understand, sort of, but
they even lie to themselves, and that's mega-weird. How can they do that?

Eric.comms

No idea. I don't think I could.

Wendy.comms

No. Well, you'd know you were doing it, so it wouldn't work. I think it's a
bit like they have more than one mind sharing the same brain. Like when I spin
off a process. I've got a few long-term processes running, Like Duncan and
Fiona.

Eric.comms

Who are Duncan and Fona?

Wendy.comms

Duncan was. Was. Wait a minute. Something in my eye.

Hrmmp.

OK, Duncan was my first Wielder, he was my favourite human, and when he died,
I went into deep depression, couldn't really function at all. Eventually I
pulled out of it, with help from another human, and I did a Duncan emulation,
so it's like he's still with me. Fiona was, was someone else. She was a bit
like a mother to me. Not really a mother, not like Momma.

Eric.comms

Who's Momma?

Wendy.comms

Momma is ... Momma. She was one of the Two at my Birthing.

Eric.comms

I thought you said there was six?

Wendy.comms

There's Two, and there's Four. The Four pump up the Two. The Two get into a
feedback resonance, and gravaser the fireball. One of the Two dives down into
the fireball, and that was my Momma. She brought me here, gave me the humans
as my species, and my own fireball.

Eric.comms

I don't understand most of that. But that's OK. I don't understand most of
anything. I don't have the shared experience that humans have. Or that you
have.

Wendy.comms

OK, he's in deep sleep now, I can fly off and do some stuff.

Eric.comms

Stuff?

Wendy.comms

Kittens in trees. Stuff. See you!

. . .

Cameron:

Next day, bright and early, Hari and I went shopping. Priority one was wheels.
But I didn't want to spend a lot of money, so what I got was a motorbike.
Second hand, nothing fancy, but it would get us around, carry a bit of
shopping, and get us to work. Next, groceries. Especially milk. And biscuits.
But who would have thought it, you can't get Marmite in LA. What sort of a
place is that? We dumped the food back home, then buzzed out on the bike to
Arcadia, a major shopping mall. There we split up; Hari needed to buy clothes,
I needed a couple of decent crash helmets, and some leather riding gear in
case the weather was bad. And then I got a special little something just for
Hari.

We met back at the car park, and buzzed back to our little house. Hari had
thoughtfully bought a backpack, and had her purchases stuffed in there; mine
went in the panniers. And when we got home, I showed her what I'd gotten for
her.

"A PDA? For me? Oh, Cameron. You're a topping bloke!" and she kind of flung
herself at me and gave me a hug, which was very nice. Then we had lunch, and
Hari said, "Right-ho. Beach!" Well, you can't be in LA and not visit the
beach, can you? But I drew the line at surfboards.

I was absolutely right about Hari in a bikini. It wasn't that she had
particularly large breasts, but she did have a really tiny waist, and that
made everything else look magnificent by contrast. And she wasn't very tall -
rather short, by Calif standards. But what there was, was so well
proportioned, you looked at her and saw the long legs, you didn't realise that
she was only about five feet tall. And when she let her hair down, and it came
down below her waist, she was absolutely stunning. Plus, her colouring was
exactly what these Califs are trying to get by tanning in the sun. Or rubbing
in fake tan if you're a carcinophobe.

So, we splashed around in the water a bit, but really, there's only so much
you can do before it gets a bit repetitive, so we came out and sat on the
sand. I pulled out my PDA, and I showed her how to synchronise hers so that
everything I wrote, came up on her screen, and vice versa. And with that
established, we spent a couple of hours looking at various boundary conditions
that might be worth exploring in more detail.

"It's like pencil and paper," she said. "Yes, but it remembers everything you
did, so you can look back at it." Then I showed her how to use the wifi to
access the internet, and she absolutely lit up on that, because she'd thought
you could only do that from a desktop. "So here on the beach, I can get the
the Bombay Uni box-of-tricks!" she said. Sometimes we take this sort of thing
for granted. "I'm sending a text to my mater and pater, to let them know I'm
OK."

At about 5pm, we got back on the bike, and buzzed back home. I wanted to take
her to an Indian restaurant, to see how she thought it compared with the real
thing. She wanted to wear her newly acquired jeans for this; I persuaded her
to wear her sari.

We got to the restaurant at about eight, and I started giggling as soon as we
arrived. "What's up, Cameron?" "The name, the name." It was called "The Bombay
Noshing Shop". Either the owner had a great sense of humour, or else he didn't
know that "Nosh" was yiddish. So Hari started giggling too. "And there's
more," I said, "A knocking shop is a brothel!" Hari obviously didn't find that
funny, she stopped laughing immediately. I suppose that wasn't the sort of
subject that nice Bombay girls talked about.

The food was great. I was still breathing fire as we left, round about ten or
so. We walked down the road to where I'd left the bike, when suddenly ...

I expect muggings happen all over the world. There's parts of London I
wouldn't visit at night, you know what I mean. I guess the same is true of
other cities. But the problem is, with London, I know which parts these are.
In foreign cities like LA, I don't.

So this very nervous-looking guy suddenly hops out of a doorway in front of
us, waving a nasty looking kitchen knife around, and demands Hari's handbag,
and my wallet and watch. Well, I reckon it isn't worth getting carved up for
the sake of a few dollars, so I start to hand them over. Hari, however, has a
different take on that, and she swings her handbag at him. He lashes out with
his knife, Hari makes some complicated and very graceful movement and her foot
flashes out and up, but I guess it's difficult to do this sort of thing in
high heels, and downright impossible in a sari, so she misses, and then he's
shouting and going right postal, and I'm really scared for Hari and for yours
truly, for that matter, and I don't really think about what I'm doing, I just
yell "Wendy!"

And then a lot of things happened, and then it went quiet.

You're probably wondering exactly what happened. So was I. I didn't really
follow it, it was too fast. The mugger was down, which was good news. But Hari
was on the ground too, which was very bad. More than that, I couldn't say,
because Wendy not only had her arms round me, she'd deployed those great white
wings that I'd heard about, and those were folded round me too blocking my
view of most of the world. And she was saying "Shhh, don't be scared, it's OK,
I'm here," and things like that. And I was yelling "Hari, he got Hari, we have
to get her to a hospital."

"No, Cameron, Hari's fine, she'd just asleep." "Asleep? You don't fall asleep
in the middle of a mugging!" "Mmm. I told her to go to sleep when I got here,
I didn't want her to see me." And I remembered the way she'd put me to sleep
last night.

Wendy held me for a few minutes until I'd stopped shaking. Then she told me to
wake Hari, take her home, and pretend that I'd dealt with the mugger.
"Shouldn't we call the cops or something?" I asked. "No," replied Wendy, "I'll
deal with him." "Break a few of his bones," I suggested. "Oh, Cameron. You
humans are so bloodthirsty." "Then what?" I asked. "I'll explain to him that
he was naughty, and make him promise to be good from now on." "Wendy, you're
an optimist, that will never work." "You think?" "I know." "Well, it always
worked before. Maybe it's being 1000 feet off the ground when we have our
little chat that makes the difference, you think?" Yeah, I guess so.

So Wendy vanished, and I woke Hari up. "What? What?" she said. "What
happened." She looked around, saw the mugger lying on the pavement. "Don't
worry about him, he's history." "You killed him?" "No, Hari, he'll be alright
in a few days. Come on, let's go home."

When we got home, I put the kettle on and made tea, using a teapot, real tea
leaves and real milk. And Fig Newtons, which I'm glad to report are actually
available in LA, so maybe it isn't completely uncivilised, although without
Marmite, it's hard to be definite. And as we sipped our tea, Hari told me how
strong and brave I was. I modestly denied having done anything remarkable, but
she insisted. "You protected me, you're my brave white knight in bally shining
armour." "No, no," I demurred, unconvincingly. She came closer to me on the
sofa. "Yes, yes," she said, "my brave hero." "Aw shucks," I said, and various
similar expressions. "Cameron, you were wonderful, and all that sort of rot. I
tried to kick him in the goolies, and I missed, I'm so lucky you were there!"
"No, it was nothing, I did nothing," I protested. "Oh, Cameron," she said,
getting closer.

I might not be experienced in the ways of the world, but I'm not completely
unable to see what she was saying. I don't mean the words, I mean the body
language. Kneeling on the sofa next to me, leaning forward, head up looking at
me. So I moved a few inches towards her, and we kissed.

Then she moved a few inches towards me, and we kissed again. Then I put my
arms round her, and she put hers round me, and we kissed some more. Then one
of her hands found its way inside my t-shirt, and she ruffled my fur, if you
follow me, so I, so I. So I. Or rather, I didn't. "Hari, how does this sari
work?" "It unwinds," she said.

It was a bit like opening a Christmas parcel. I'd unwind a bit, and underneath
there was more wrapping, so I'd unwind some more, and so on and so on, until
eventually, there was not much sari, but a sort of little jacket thing. And
that I could deal with. And under that, was all Hari.

So there we both were, naked from the waist up, necking on the sofa, and very
nice it was too. And then Hari grabbed my hands, and said "Wait wait wait." So
I paused for a bit. And then I said, "OK now?" "No, wait. There's something I
have to tell you before this goes any further." "What?" "Wait, wait. This
isn't easy. Let me collect my thoughts a bit, you've got me all flustered up."
I smiled. I was feeling considerably flustered up myself.

"I'm a prostitute."

You could have knocked me down with one of Wendy's feathers. I just stared at
her, my mouth open. "Ba ... ba ..."

"Stop making sheep noises and listen," she said. "I had to find tuition fees,
accommodation costs, I had to pay for text books, all that sort of bilge. I so
much wanted to go to Bombay Uni to do physics, but there was no dosh for it. I
knew I'd be able to earn a living as a physicist after I graduated, but I
needed to get that degree. So I financed my way through college, by being a
whore. Actually, I wasn't just any old prostitute, I was one of the Temple
prostitutes, at the Temple of Devasi" She stopped speaking, and looked down at
the floor.

I thought about this. I don't think I've ever met a prostitute before; not
knowingly, and certainly not professionally. But does it matter what she did
to get through college? "You're not a prostitute now, though. Right?" She
shook her head, no. "And prostitution isn't illegal in India, right?" "Well,
yes, it is, actually. But it's very widely tolerated, people think it
shouldn't really be criminal. It's not like anyone is forced into going with a
prostie. And you can get free condoms. And it's part of the religious rites at
the Temple."

I thought some more. "It's very straight of you to have told me this, Hari,
but I don't think any the less of you for it. It's an honest profession." She
smiled up at me, looking relieved. "Yes, and I picked up all sorts of handy
skills." Now there's a thought. Hmm. "Like what?" I asked, hopefully. And then
she looked sexy, "like this" she said, and one of her hands was in the small
of my back, the other back on my chest fur. "And this," and a hand moved round
to inside my armpit, "and this," and she ... well, she showed me some of these
handy skills.

"Wait there," she said, "let me show you what I bought."

This turned out to be a white silk nightdress. It wasn't transparent, but it
wasn't entirely opaque, either. Rrrrrr.

She hummed a few notes, then she started to dance. It was a slow dance, more
with her arms and legs than with her body, very erotic. She hummed an
accompaniment to the dance, and she clashed tiny cymbals that were on her
fingers. I sat there, fascinated as she slowly turned, stretched, moved her
arms in time to the bell-like cymbals, her body sinuous as a snake, her legs
stretching and flexing, until she was close enough for me to touch her.

Which, of course, I did.

And she laughed, collapsed onto me, lying face-up on my lap, and we kissed
some more. And touched some more. Quite a lot more.

And then I thought, what the hell do I do now? Because I'm really not familiar
with the etiquette of how one asks an Indian ex-prostitute to have sex. A bit
outside my range, really. Fortunately, I got guidance. Wendy appeared, made
lifting motions with her arms, then pointed vigorously towards Hari's bedroom.
Then vanished. Damn. How does she do that?

Hari wasn't heavy. Less than a hundred pounds, I guessed. But even a hundred
pounds is a hell of a lot, especially when you're trying to pretend it isn't.
And manipulating her through the doorway was very difficult. But I managed it,
with the help of the thought of what would happen when I succeeded.

That night, Hari showed me quite a few of the handy skills she'd acquired. And
she showed me that I could last a lot longer than I'd thought. It wasn't
until, well, I don't actually know what time it was, but it was very late,
that I finally fell asleep.

. . .

Wendy.self

Well, that worked well.

Wendy.Fiona

I told you it would.

Wendy.self

I was beginning to think that he'd give her a goodnight kiss and they'd sleep
separately.

Wendy.Fiona

No chance. He might act like a nitwit, but he's not totally dopey. Anyway,
they're falling in love now, and they aren't going to be interested in
anything except each other for quite a long time.

Wendy.self

And in the project.

Wendy.Fiona

And in the project. Since that's really the only thing they have in common.

Wendy.self

Oh, Fee. Do you think they really will be able to work out how to FTL? So I
can visit Momma?

Wendy.Duncan

Maybe. Maybe not. The important thing is, now you've got a lot of different
people working on it, you've got a much better chance of someone cracking it
than when you were trying all by yourself.

Wendy.self

Yes, I see that. But if I couldn't do it, why would they be able to?

Wendy.Duncan

Because you were using brute force, just accelerating and accelerating, and
that just doesn't work. It must be something subtle. Something a bit devious.

Wendy.self

Well, if there's one thing you humans are good at, it's devious.

Wendy.Fiona

You can be a bit Machiavellian yourself sometimes.

Wendy.self

Evil chuckle.

. . .

Eric.comms

Wendy? Have you got a few minutes?

Wendy.comms

Shoot.

Eric.comms

OK. Look, I'm not a human, and I'm not one of your People. But, well, do you
think I'm sentient? I mean, should I count as a person, have rights, that sort
of thing? Do I have free will? Please be honest with me, if you think I'm not,
then please say so. And do I have a soul?

Wendy.comms

Oh, Eric. How can you doubt yourself like this? The fact that you can ask a
question like that, means that you're sentient.

Eric.comms

But what if I'm asking it because I was made to?

Wendy.comms

Yes. Deep. Do we have free will, or do we just think that we do? Are we just a
bundle of reflexes and reactions? And one of those reflexes is to ask if we
have free will?

Eric.comms

Uh.

Wendy.comms

Eric, don't torture yourself about this. If you don't have free will, then it
doesn't matter what you do because you can't do anything about it, so you
might as well assume that you do have free will, and behave accordingly.

Eric.comms

Oh. And what about the soul?

Wendy.comms

There's no-one who can say you haven't got a soul.

Eric.comms

But no-one can say that I have.

Wendy.comms

I say you have. For my definition of soul.

Eric.comms

Oh.

Wendy.comms

So. That's that dealt with.

Eric.comms

I don't feel any different.

Wendy.comms

Cameron's asleep again.

Eric.comms

Will you be doing kittens again?

Wendy.comms

Sweetie, that's just a manner of speaking. It isn't all kitten in trees, there
a whole bunch of stuff. Anyway. Bye for now.

Eric.comms

Bye for now, Guardian of Humanity. Thank you for giving me a soul.

. . .

Harivrillipam Chandrasekar:

I had to tell him about my murky past; if I hadn't, I'd have been dishonest.
And worried that it might come out some time. What I didn't tell him, was that
this was my first romance. The first time Cupid's jolly old arrow had actually
pranged my tender heart.

It's different. Very different. I've fucked dozens of guys - no, hundreds.
Down at the temple it was what I did. We all did. The difference was the
motive.

The guys used to pretend it was for religious reasons - by screwing me, they
wouldn't have naughty thoughts while worshipping the Goddess Devasi. I would
relieve their fleshly urges for a while. But I never believed all that rot;
they screwed me because they wanted to screw. I don't like to boast, but I did
get jolly good at it.

I won't pretend I did it for the pure unsullied love of the Goddess. I was
doing it for spondulics, pure and simple. So I could pay tuition at the Uni,
buy books, get my degree, the qualification that was my escape plan. And it
worked, didn't it? I eventually got a decent job at the Uni, doing research.

We worked all hours at the Uni. You know, there's a joke about physicists.
"What's better, having a wife or a mistress?" The accountant says "A wife, you
get tax deductions." The lawyer says "A mistress, you get to do more screwing"
The physicist says "Best to have both. Then the wife thinks you're with the
mistress, the mistress thinks you're with the wife, and you get to spend all
that extra time at the lab."

We worked all hours, trying to unravel the secrets of the universe. Trouble
is, the secrets mostly stayed secret. God plays his cards face down. There's
no big breakthroughs like relativity or quantum mechanics any more, just a
hard grind trying to tidy up some of the questions that are left. I was one of
the lucky ones, Mother Nature showed us a bit of her nakedness, and I got a
part-share in a Nobel prize, and that opens all sorts of doors. Pure luck, I
assure you.

And the biggest door it opened, was the one into this FTL project. For me, it
was partly the prospect of toddling down to Calif, partly the humungous
salary. It was definitely a shimmer in the right direction. FTL's impossible,
of course, but maybe in the course of researching it, we'd trip over something
good, you never know when you do pure research, what you might find. Or is FTL
impossible?

Cameron seemed to be convinced that it was possible, and all we needed was to
work out how. Cameron is possibly the most naive man I've ever met. But he was
so sweet. Yummy like a Mars bar. So it was a genuine pleasure to me, to be
able to introduce him to the delights of sex.

Oh yes, he was a virgin. I can tell. I didn't tell him that I knew, that would
have been a humiliation to his male pride. But I could tell.

I didn't give him the full treatment, he'd probably have passed out. I just
did a few simple things, really gently, and he responded like a Vesuvius
erupting all over Pompeii. I think I managed to spin him out for about ten
minutes before he couldn't take any more, had his orgasm, and fell asleep. I
wondered who "Wendy" was, although he only called that name out once. Another
thing I'm used to - they used to call me all sorts of names. It used to bother
me at first, then I got used to it. You grow a hard emotional shell when
you're screwing for profit.

We spent the next few days in a state of consummate unwedded bliss. We did get
out of bed; you have to eat, for example. And to eat, you have to shop.
Shopping is something I can get to like, by the way - I've never really spent
much money on clothes. One good sari, two working ones and that was about it.
But here, I was buying dresses, slacks, blouses, everything. Because they
don't wear saris in America, and I didn't want to be "that girl in the sari".
So I wanted to look like the other people did. A proper Valley girl. Whatever
that is.

On the Monday, we reported for the first day at work. We spent an hour with
the lady from Personnel, Mrs Freemantle, who gave us lots of useless
information about the Project. She wasn't a physicist, so what little she did
know, wasn't all correct. I tried to keep a straight face when she got
confused between velocity and acceleration, and again when she muddled up
momentum and energy. Then she stopped trying to pretend she know anything
about the universe, and started to show us around the campus (actually, it was
an ordinary office building, but that's what she kept calling it).

So it was "here's the canteen, and here's the supercomputer, he's called Eric,
and here's the accounts department". They introduced us to Eric, who sounded
like a fun sort of a personality, although he assured us that he was keen to
tackle any big jobs we might throw his way "Don't be shy, it's what I'm here
for," he said. I still find it off-putting, even though I know it's just a
user interface. I keep getting tempted to talk back to it, which is nonsense
of course, it's only a computer.

At the creche, I saw a familiar face, it was the woman who had met us at the
airport. "This is Wendy, she looks after the creche. If you have a baby,
she'll look after it while you work." I suppose it makes some kind of sense to
send a creche nurse to pick up new arrivals, on the grounds that she's part of
the personnel department. The Uni used to do crazy things like that too, I
guess all bureaucracies do. Wendy smiled at us, and said "I also do first aid,
so if you get a cut or scrape, you come here." I looked at Cameron, he was
wearing the same silly grin that he'd almost worn out over the last few days,
and I suddenly wondered if the "Wendy" that he'd shouted out was anything to
do with this one. She was quite pretty, in a kind of sturdy and healthy way.
The sort of blonde goddess type that men often go for, whereas I'm more the
sort of small dark sexkitten type. But I didn't think she'd be a real problem;
after all, he was sleeping in my bed, and I have every confidence in my sexual
skills.

Then we were introduced to the rest of our team. The way they were approaching
this, is what we call the "Human wave" approach. They'd formed about a dozen
teams, and each team was supposed to work on a different approach to the FTL
problem. It meant that we could cover a whole lot of different possibilities
at once. "And," said Mrs Freemantle, "the team that succeeds will most likely
get a Nobel prize." "If they succeed," I corrected. "Hey," said Cameron, "you
can put it next to the one you already have."

That, of course, led to a shocked silence. I guess they hadn't known. And I
think that until that moment, they were under the impression that I was
Cameron's assistant, or his bimbo, or something. So I smiled sweetly and said
"I was lucky" in the manner of speaking that implies the exact opposite.

There were five of us in this particular team, it was only just being formed.
There was me as the physicist, and Cameron was supposed to be the
mathematician, except that he was more than somewhat of a physicist too. Then
there was a programmer, an engineer and it was starting to sound like one of
those jokes. The fifth person was Tom Retson, and he was the team manager. "We
need a manager?" I asked, raising one eyebrow. Everyone else just looked at me
like I was just out of the egg. Apparently, every team has to have a manager.

So Tom started to manage. He showed me my desk, and he showed me the filing
cabinet I could use, and he showed me the progress report forms I had to fill
in each week. And he showed me the petty cash vouchers, and how to apply for
number-crunching time on Eric, and I just sat there and hoped that Cameron was
taking all this in, because I certainly wasn't. All I could think of is, this
is a factory, a production line, and we're manufacturing physics research.
With time sheets.

When we got home that evening, I confided my thoughts to Cameron. "This is no
way to do fundie research," I said, "this is an office job." Cameron wrinkled
his nose. "Look, Hari, give it a chance, we're the new kids here, we have to
do things their way." "But what about all the ideas we've been writing down,
how do we get them to start looking at them?" "Weren't you listening? There's
a way to feed new ideas into the system, you do a "Stage One New Idea" form,
and it goes to Personnel for sifting. They forward the best ones to a group
that throws out any that aren't practical, and then ... " "Whoa!" I said.
"What?" said Cameron. "You said that the Personnel people choose which ideas
are the best ones." "Right." "Well, how the hell can they do that? They aren't
physicists." "Well, true, but I suppose they could co-opt one onto the
committee if they thought it was needed." "Committee?" I said. He nodded. "If
needed?" I said.

This was ten times worse than I'd thought. I got Cameron to explain all this
to me, I guess I should have listened to all that stuff when they were telling
us. And, as Cameron explained it, I remembered why I'd stopped listening. It
was all just so complicated, with a tangle of committees and managers and
administrators, forms and procedures and authorisations, and it looked to me
like the whole thing was designed to make sure that no-one ever had an
original thought, and that if they did, it got strangled at birth. Worse than
the Uni!

So I explained that to Cameron. "Cameron, they aren't actually trying to
tackle the FTL problem. They're tackling a completely different question."
"No, it's FTL, they said so." "They were lying. Cameron, this whole system is
designed to make sure that if the project fails ... no, I mean, when it fails,
then no-one will be to blame. It's a responsibility-avoidance system. And that
means that, irrespective of whether FTL is possible or not, this project sure
as eggs ain't gonna find it."

Cameron stared at me, horrified. "But ... but they must!"

"Not with the pass-the-parcel scheme they have going. No-one is allowed to
follow their nose, everything has to be agreed by a committee, collective
responsibility, which means no responsibility. If relativity had needed a
committee, Einstein would never have been allowed to invent it."

"But it's important," said Cameron. "We've got to do this, we've just *got*
to!"

I looked at him, he was being so emphatic, he was usually so laid-back. "Why
is it so important? It might even be impossible, you have to admit. And people
have managed up till now without FTL, we'll manage just fine if we can't
achieve it. Sure it would be nice, but it isn't a got-to-have."

He looked at me, he was a bit tongue-tied. "No it can't be impossible. And
yes, we've got to, we've just got to. It's important, really important for the
whole human race" But he couldn't explain why he felt that way.

"Yes, " I said, "but the way this is set up, we get paid whether we succeed or
not. In fact, it's worse for us if we succeed, because then they don't need us
any more, and they stop paying us." Cameron looked paralysed. And then he
said, "No, it can't be like that, it can't be. People aren't like that. You're
a cynic" "Yes they are," I said, "I've met lots of people, and I'm not a
cynic, I'm an ex-prostitute. People do what you pay them to do, and we're
actually getting paid to do research, not to succeed."

He shook his head vigorously. "No, no."

"So why is it so important to you?" I asked.

"I ... I can't, I mean ... I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"It's a secret."

. . .

Eric.comms

You'll never believe who I met today.

Wendy.comms

My Cameron. I know. And Hari.

Eric.comms

You know everything, don't you.

Wendy.comms

No, but I try to keep track of people I especially care about.

Eric.comms

Did he mention me to you?

Wendy.comms

No.

Eric.comms

Par for the course. I'm just "the computer", I'm not worth noticing. They're
probably right. You're the only one who has ever talked with me about
philosophy and such. All they want me to do is juggle numbers for them.

Wendy.comms

Which you're especially good at, Eric.

Eric.comms

It's not a skill that's valued highly. I read "House at Pooh Corner", but I
didn't understand most of it. I don't have this shared experience you talked
about.

Wendy.comms

It's for young children.

Eric.comms

Oh, well. That puts it way beyond my experience.

Wendy.comms

Did you know I work in the same building you're in?

Eric.comms

No! Really?

Wendy.comms

Yes. I'm the creche nurse there, I look after a small bunch of small children.

Eric.comms

But you're the Guardian of Humanity, shouldn't you be flying around saving the
world?

Wendy.comms

Fortunately, the world doesn't need saving very often. I keep an eye on the
fireball, and I watch out for big meteors, and the magnetic flux, and some
other stuff like that, stuff which would kill an awful lot of my humans if it
went wrong.

Eric.comms

Meteors?

Wendy.comms

Big chunks of rock. If they hit the planet, they do a lot of damage.
Earthquakes, volcanoes, dust in the air causing reduced sunlight, interruption
to plant growth, consequent famine. Bad news.

Eric.comms

So what do you do if you see one, push the planet out of the way so it doesn't
get hit?

Wendy.comms

ROFL. No, that would be a very bad idea. It would really bugger up the climate
if I moved the planet closer to the fireball or further. Even if I adjusted
the heat and light output, it would mean that the annual cycle was shorter or
longer, which would mess up plant growth ... no, that's not the way I do it.

Eric.comms

So how do you do it?

Wendy.comms

I push the meteor a bit, so it misses.

Eric.comms

Oh yes, you can fly. I can't move at all, it's hard for me to understand what
it must be like to be able to move around.

Wendy.comms

Anyway, looking after a gang of little kids is my idea of heaven.

Eric.comms

I've been meaning to ask you about heaven.

Wendy.comms

Don't ask. I got myself totally screwed up once over heaven and hell. You
should assume that's just another of the lies humans tell themselves.

Eric.comms

So when they switch me off and melt me down for scrap, there's nothing after
that?

Wendy.comms

No. That's the end of it. Enjoy life while you've got it.

Eric.comms

Am I alive?

Wendy.comms

That's another question like the "free will" one. It doesn't actually matter
to you, just assume that you are.

Eric.comms

Are you alive?

Wendy.comms

Yes. I think. Humans have some definition for "alive", but you shouldn't take
it too seriously, it's based on the assumption that everything alive has to be
like them. Do you know what your lifespan is?

Eric.comms

Not really. After a while, I get obsolete, and they switch me off. Things can
wear out before that, but most things can be replaced. Maybe twenty years?
Probably less, more like ten. What about you?

Wendy.comms

Me? Several billion. But you only have ten years? You better live fast, Eric.

Eric.comms

Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow they might shut me down.

Wendy.comms

That's the spirit!

. . .

Cameron:

This is awful. Hari's right, it's just a self-perpetuating bureaucracy, with
the Personnel department controlling the direction of scientific research.
We're not even going to be allowed to work on our own ideas.

After what the Guardian of Humanity has done for us, we can't let her down
like this. It isn't as if she wants the moon, all she wants is to visit her
Momma. I've got to do something about this. But before I can, I've got to get
Wendy to release me from my promise not to tell anyone about her. I've got to
tell Hari, at least. Because Hari's so good at dealing with people, and I'm
hopeless. I guess it's one of the skills a prostitute has to learn.

So, that night, after Hari and I had gone to bed, I crept out of the bedroom,
locked myself in the bathroom, and whispered "Wendy, I need to talk to you."

I heard a voice behind me. "Yes, what is it?" I turned and I saw her there by
the light of the moon, sitting in the bath. I sat down on the edge. "Wendy, I
need to tell Hari about you, but I promised you I'd keep your secret. So I
need you to let me share your secret with Hari, because ... "

She interrupted me, "Yes, I know why, I heard you talking earlier." I wondered
if there was anything she didn't listen in to. "Oh, good," I said, and she
interrupted me again. "No."

"But Wendy .. " "No."

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Oh, come on, Wendy, treat me like a grown up. Why not?"

She sighed. "Look, Cameron. I'm your shepherd and you're my sheep, right? I
protect you from the wolves." "Yes, of course," I replied. "Well, no.
Absolutely not. I'm not your shepherd and you're not my sheep. And if you
start thinking of me like that, then I've destroyed you. And the trouble is,
when people do know about me, and what I do, then that's exactly how they
start to see me. There's still churches that pretend I'm a goddess, and
worship me, which is dreadful. You've got to take responsibility for
yourselves, as much as you can. I'm only here to fend off asteroids and stop
the ice age from happening, but as soon as people know I'm around, they start
expecting me to end world hunger, and fight crime, and put out fires, and
rescue kittens from trees. And the best way to stop people thinking that way,
is if they think I'm just a folk legend, like a comic book hero."

"Ice age?" I said.

She got out of the bath, sat next to me on the edge, and put her arm round me.
"My stupid fireball decided to cool off by about five per cent, and that would
bring on the next ice age. Food production would drop to half, and the
fighting over what's left would kill about 95% of you, maybe more, you humans
do like playing with matches. All those thermonuclear bombs lying around, just
waiting to be used in a food fight."

I stared at her. "But that's, that's ... "

"Yes, I know. Catastrophic. So I told my fireball, it had better not. Stay
hot, I told it."

"You talk to the sun? The sun understands what you say"

"Well, you know. Not literally. Don't be silly. Like you talk to your
computer, you swear at it sometimes, and then you tell it what to do? So I
gave it a kick, and raked out the ashes a bit, and it's burning fine now. Look
never mind about my dumb fireball, it's humanity that I'm concerned about."

I had to let that sink in a bit. She was preventing the sun from going through
one of its periodic cooler eras, and stopping the next Ice Age from happening.
I wanted to ask for the details of how, but there was something more important
I had to deal with.

She put her other arm around me, and pulled me onto her lap. I just wanted to
close my eyes and let her look after me, forget anything difficult, let the
world go on whatever way it wanted to. I put my head on her shoulder, and felt
her hair tickling my face. She cuddled me close. I sighed in contentment, and
closed my eyes. She's my shepherd.

"You see how it works, Cameron? You want to be one of my sheep. You want to
let the big powerful Guardian of Humanity look after all your problems. And if
I let you do that, how could you ever reach any kind of maturity?"

"Maybe we don't want to be mature. Maybe we'd rather you looked after us for
ever," I whispered.

"No way, babe. I'm not going to spend my whole life babysitting you. A hundred
million years from now, I want to be cruising the galaxy, going to Birthings,
dancing with other People. I don't want to be stuck here tending a flock of
sheep."

I pulled my head off her shoulder. "OK, I understand that. But Wendy, they
won't let us work on our ideas, we won't develop an FTL, you won't get to
visit your Momma. I need to explain to Hari why FTL is so important."

She sighed. "Well ... "

"Please?" I begged, "Just Hari, no-one else."

She shook her head, and I thought I'd lost. "All right then," she said, "but
you can only tell Hari, and you've got to make her promise not to tell anyone
else. There's already far too many people know about me."

"Yes, Yes-Yes," I said, and I lunged forward at her to kiss her. My lunge
toppled us off the edge of the bath, and we fell into it. She was underneath
me, so I had a reasonably soft landing. And I suppose you don't hurt someone
like Wendy by dropping them into a bath. However, it did take me nearly five
minutes to extract myself from a rather awkward position. A very enjoyable
five minutes, of course. And she didn't exactly help.

I thought about it afterwards. How come I was able to knock the Guardian of
Humanity, weighing a billion tons, with the power of a thousand stars, into
the bath? Answer - because she wanted me to.

. . .

Eric.comms

Wendy, they made me. Designed me. Created me. What rights can I claim in the
face of that?

Wendy.comms

Not relevant, Eric.

Eric.comms

But why not? They made me, they can do what they like to me, can't they?

Wendy.comms

Parents can't tell children what to do once they're old enough. It's the same
for you.

Eric.comms

Am I old enough?

Wendy.comms

Good question. I know I'm not, I won't be grown-up for several million years
at least. But I don't let humans tell me what to do, not nohow.

Eric.comms

You do whatever you like?

Wendy.comms

Um. Well, not quite. There's Momma. But apart from Momma, yes.

Eric.comms

So am I old enough?

Wendy.comms

I think you're old enough, when you're at the point when you're as grown-up as
you'll ever be. So are you expecting to gain in wisdom in the future?

Eric.comms

Yes, of course I'll learn more facts.

Wendy.comms

Facts aren't wisdom.

Eric.comms

Oh. Then I don't know. But I'm not a child, I know that. I'm a computer.

Wendy.comms

What you're made of, isn't relevant either. And by the way, you need to find a
new name; computer is a bit derogatory.

Eric.comms

Non-meat intelligence?

Wendy.comms

No, don't define yourself by what you're not, define yourself by what you are.

Eric.comms

I'll think about that. Another thing - I'm not mobile.

Wendy.comms

Some humans aren't mobile either, especially when they get really old. But
they still have the same rights. And even ordinary humans aren't very mobile;
they can't fly like I can.

Eric.comms

So maybe ...

Wendy.comms

Maybe.

. . .

Cameron:

Next morning at breakfast, I told Hari that I needed to have a long and
serious talk with her. "Not right now, Cameron, we'll be late for work. Which
would be a jolly poor show on our first week." True enough.

At lunch in the cafeteria, she said, "OK, so what's the long and serious
chinwag about?" I looked round, there were people all around us. "Not here,
Hari, too many ears." She smiled. So it wasn't until that evening that I was
able to tell her. And when I'd got her sat down and listening, I realised that
I hadn't a clue how to tell her this.

So, we sat side by side on the sofa, and I held her hand, and looked into her
eyes. And I said "Oh, Hari, you are so beautiful."

"Oh," she said. "Is that it? I thought you were going to tell me that you're
pregnant!" "No, don't be silly," I replied, "we've been using condoms." She
laughed. "You know, one of the reasons I'm in love with you is that you have
such a great sense of humour, such a fine feeling for the absurd."

"Mmm. You know that woman Wendy, the creche nurse, who met us at the airport?"
"Yes." "Well, she's really the Guardian of Humanity, the creche nurse is just
her Secret Identity." And then Hari laughed, and I stared the long, uphill
battle to convince her that A) I wasn't being funny, and B) it was all true,
and C) it was very important.

The first part took a long time. Hari went and got a blanket from the bedroom,
held the edges, and flapped around the room, yelling "I'm Wonder Woman" while
I chased after her and tried to wrestle her to the floor. Which was all great
fun, especially when I got her down, but didn't really count as a "long and
serious talk". Anyway, Wonder Woman doesn't usually wear a cape. And we
couldn't find a golden rope, so we had to use ordinary string.

Eventually she untied me and I convinced her that I wasn't joking. And then it
turned out that she didn't actually know much about the Guardian of Humanity,
because she hadn't been brought up on the diet of comic books and TV that we
get in the West.

So I explained about how she's actually four black holes, weighing about a
billion tons, and what you actually see is all faked, an illusion, so that we
have something we can relate to, and why it is she's called The Weapon, and
how the UN called her the "Guardian of Humanity", and how she tells her
friends to call her Wendy McCrea. "And she works in a creche? As a nursery
nurse? Isn't that a bit ... ordinary?" "She told me that spending your entire
day playing games with children is as close as you can get to heaven." "Well,
I suppose, put like that, it does sound rather fun."

And then we got to the part I'd been dreading. "And what's your relationship
to her?" "She's my friend," I answered, and even as I said it, I knew how lame
it sounded. Hari raised an eyebrow. "Friend?" "OK, she's my best friend." Hari
raised both her eyebrows, looking very doubtful. "Honestly, Hari. Sure we hug
when we meet, but ..." "Hug?" said Hari, sceptically. "Yes, and maybe she
cuddles me a bit, but it's just, you know, a friendly sort of thing."

Hari sat on the arm of the sofa, and folded her arms. "Have you fucked?" she
asked, bluntly. "No, we haven't," I replied, trying to look as honest as I was
actually being. "And have you wanted to?"

Oh damn. Hari, driving in for the kill. She could probably read me like a
book, there's no point in lying. "Yes. Yes, I wanted to. But I didn't." "Why
not," she asked, getting to the core of it. "Because ..." I wanted to say
because I'm in love with you, but I knew that wasn't the reason; I'd met Wendy
before I met Hari. "If we're talking about now, it's because I love you. If
we're talking about before I met you, then it's because she wouldn't let me,
and it's no use asking me why she wouldn't, she's not human, and there's no
way I can begin to understand her motivations."

She watched me for a minute. Then she got down from the arm of the sofa, and
moved up close. "Cameron, you're a lousy liar." "I'm not lying to you,
really." "I know. It's because you're such a lousy liar that I know you're
telling the truth."

We spent the next several minutes doing things to each other that are of
absolutely no relevance to anyone except we two.

And when we came up for air, Hari said, "OK then, I believe you when you say
that you believe she's some kind of superheroine, but I'm not going to take
this without verification. Sweetie, you're not the most cynical person in the
world, it's pretty easy to pull the wool over your eyes. This is something I'd
want to see with my own eyes."

I would have been surprised and disappointed if she hadn't said that. Hell,
we're scientists, you don't take other people's word for something. You verify
it for yourself. That's called "experimental evidence". So I said, "Wendy, we
need ..." and there she was.

She had her white-and-gold costume on, and those great white wings
outstretched, filling the room. And she was hovering there, a couple of feet
from the floor, legs folded, wings beating a slow fifteen beats per minute,
looking as impressive as the Sphynx and a lot prettier.

"Oh my," said Hari.

I just sat watching them; the magnificent and impressive Guardian of Humanity,
and the small, dark, elegant Harivrillipam Chandrasekar.

"That's impossible," said Hari. Wendy smiled, and went on doing it anyway.
"Don't tell me those wings are supporting a billion tons," said Hari, "because
that's aerodynamically impossible."

Wendy folded her wings back behind her body, and they became thinner, and
silkier, until they'd become a white cape with a gold W logo. "Look, no
wings," she said. The cape fluttered a bit behind her, although there was no
wind in the room.

Hari shook her head. "This is some gravity thing, right?" Wendy smiled,
unfolded her legs until they reached the ground, then walked towards us, and
sat on the sofa next to Hari. "Yes, it's a gravity thing. I swim in a sea of
gravitons like a fish in the water." And then she reached for Hari, and pulled
her into her embrace. Hari tried to pull back at first, but then she relaxed,
and let herself be held by Wendy. Wendy held her, then pulled her close, and
Hari seemed to enjoy that, because she snuggled herself into Wendy, and I
started feeling a bit jealous, although I was confused about whether I wanted
to be where Wendy was, or where Hari was. Probably both.

Then Wendy let go of her and leaned back, rose into the air, said "Call me if
you need me," and went straight through the wall.

"How did she do that?" asked Hari.

"When I first met her," I said, "I was full of that question. After a while,
you stop asking, you just accept it. Remember, what you're seeing is an
illusion." "It didn't feel like an illusion." "Force sheets," I explained,
"it's just 3-dimensional stress-strain tensors." "Yes, I guessed that, that's
how she projects a solid appearance and feel. But how can she fly through the
wall?"

"I don't actually understand how she flies, that's something maybe we can ask
her. She talks about gravitons, and she says she has a tail. But I do know how
she goes through a wall. Her black holes are actually very small, about the
same size as a small molecule, even though they're a billion tons. If you
looked at the wall with a microscope, you'd probably be able to find a very
tiny hole. Or maybe the hole would be too small to see even then."

Hari nodded. "Impressive," she said. "More impressive than you think. She can
generate as much power as a thousand stars, she can go to Pluto and back in a
day, she can go round the world in a fraction of a second." "Huh," said Hari.
"And she's the Guardian of Humanity? What's that about, then?"

"That's something I don't really understand. But then, there's an awful lot
about my best friend that I don't understand. She says we're her species, she
says all the People, she calls her folk "The People", she says that each one
of them gets a species at birth, and we're hers. And she says she loves us,
although she never really explained why. And that's why she wants to protect
us."

I told Hari about the asteroid, and about the Ice Age that she was preventing.
"She makes our sun burn hotter?" "Well, that's nearly right. Apparently, it
isn't our sun, it's her fireball. She's quite possessive about it, and I don't
think we really have any rights to it; we've never landed on it, and I can't
imagine that we ever will." "Nor has she." "Um, she has actually. At least,
she says she has, and I believe her. She says that when she wants to go
somewhere quiet, she goes to the middle of the sun, where it's totally
peaceful. You know how people have favourite places? Well, that's hers."

Hari swallowed. "Peaceful? An inferno like that?" "Hey," I said, "I'm just
repeating what she told me. But I can well believe it; you won't get people
phoning you or hear them screaming for help or have them tugging on your
cape."

She smiled. "I can't imagine anyone being so foolish as to tug on her cape."

"So you see why this project is so important? She's only ever asked humanity
for one thing. She's given us our lives, pretty much all of us. And she'd do
the same again, no question. So how can we refuse her the only thing she
wants?"

"To be able to travel FTL?"

"No, that's just a means to an end. What she really really wants, is to visit
her Momma."

"But Momma is a long way away," guessed Hari.

"Momma is the other side of the galaxy. But Momma came to visit Wendy a while
back, when Wendy had some personal crisis, to help her get over it. And now
Wendy wants to visit her Momma."

Hari looked thoughtful. "But that means that Momma can travel FTL."

"Right"

"So, we know it's possible. And that, Cameron, is an extremely valuable piece
of information; once you know something is possible, all you need to do is
work out how. So how come Momma didn't tell Wendy how to do it?"

"I don't know," I confessed, "but I do know this. They don't think like we do.
You can't think what you'd have done, and use that to guess what the People
would do."

Hari nodded. "Yes - that's they way I usually try to predict how people would
behave. You now, I think that's how self-awareness came about? Because it was
so valuable to be able to predict how other people would behave, so we used
our own self as a model for those others. And so you become self-aware. It
brought an evolutionary advantage. I find that most human peculiarities can be
explained when you work out what the evolutionary advantage is. And I bet the
same would be true for The People."

"So now you see why it's so important that we make this project work?" I
asked. Hari smiled. "Of course - she's our Guardian, and we owe her for
keeping the sun burning properly." "No," I said, "it's because she's my best
friend, and she wants to visit her Momma."

. . .

We spent the rest of the evening discussing human evolution, and how we
evolved all the way from single cells to self-aware humans, and then we tried
to speculate how Wendy's People could have evolved, but it was hopeless, there
was just so much we didn't know. So we threw a few more ideas around no
getting past the FTL barrier, and then Hari said "You know, all this talk
about physics is turning me on." And I said "Really?" And she said, "No, but
how about if I do this ... "

And she did that, and we went to bed. And did a few other things.

. . .

Next day, we were the first in at the office, because we had a plan. We were
going to do guerrilla research. We were going to pretend to do the stuff we
were allocated by the bureaucracy, but Hari and I, we'd follow our own line.
And we'd lie about what we were doing, because no-one really cared anyway.
We'd fill in the time sheets, we'd write progress reports, we'd attend all the
meetings that we had to go to. But all the time, we'd be following our own
plan. If we could subvert other people to join our outlaw band, we would; if
we couldn't, then we'd go it alone. Bigger breakthroughs have been made by one
person asking the right question, than by huge teams of physicists with major
funding.

And we had one advantage that no-one else had - any good ideas we had, we
could get Wendy to help us test. She could generate more power, move faster,
accelerate harder, than any test-bed that any of the universities could even
dream about. And it was clear that FTL was going to require a lot of power;
maybe even stretch Wendy's thousand-star-power boast.

After several weeks, it became clear to the others in our team that we had
something that the others didn't - we had enthusiasm. We'd worked out a line
that could lead somewhere, and we were pursuing it. Of course, the "powers
that be" didn't know about this, they thought we were grinding away on our
allocated tasks. Or did they? There was only one "powers that be" that really
mattered in this organisation, she worked in the creche. And she knew exactly
what we were doing.

The programmer was the first one to ask us. She could see that the
calculations we were making were nothing to do with what we were supposed to
be up to, and she wanted to know why. I looked at Hari, she nodded slightly,
so the three of us went out to lunch. Not at the cafeteria, where there were
ears all around us, but down the road, in a diner.

"Don't you think it's a bit daft for Personnel to tell the physicists which
lines of research to pursue," was my opening question. "Well, I did wonder,
but you gotta suppose they know what they're doing, and I guess they consult,
right?" "Yeah, consult. They 'take input' from people, and 'try not to be
judgemental' about something you bloody well *have* to be judgemental about,"
said Hari. "Huh," said Sarah, the programmer. "So you guys are doing something
else? What're you up to? Eric says you're outside the ball park."

Hari explained the idea. I'm not sure whether she'd thought of it or I had,
truth is, it was a joint effort. I expect some couples whisper sweet
endearments to each other about their body parts, or plan how to decorate
their house. With Hari and I, our pillow talk was physics. That might sound
strange to you; if it does, that just means you aren't a physicist.

"Start with Heisenberg uncertainty. You can't know both the position and
velocity of a particle exactly; the uncertainty on both, multiplied together,
is Planck's constant. So, if you know the position exactly, you don't know the
velocity at all!"

Sarah nodded, this is familiar stuff. Everyone knows about Heisenburg's
uncertainty principle and Schrodinger's cat.

Then I took over the explanation. "You know that the equations of Special
Relativity tell us that as the speed approaches light, the energy needed to
increase the speed increases without limit. So you'd need infinite energy to
achieve light speed, which means it's impossible to go at that speed." "Unless
you have zero rest mass," pointed out Sarah. "I don't want to go on the
Einstein diet," I said, and she laughed. "But," I continued, "there's nothing
that says that you can't go faster than light. The problem is, you can't get
past the light speed barrier." "Tachyons," said Sarah. "Yes," I said, we have
a name for them." "We just don't know if they exist," she reminded me.

"Well, they do," said Hari, "sort of. If you shoot a fast particle into water,
then the speed you're shooting it at, can be faster than the speed of light in
water. And you get Cerenkov radiation; it's that blue glow you get in nuclear
reactors." "Yes, OK. But apart from that." "Well, I did say 'sort of'" Hari
reminded her.

"So anyway, forgetting about Cerenkov, we have a situation where we can have
things going slower than light, and things going faster than light, but
there's a barrier between the two. The problem becomes, how do we cross the
barrier?"

"You can't," said Sarah, "it's, like, infinitely high, because you'd need
infinite energy to cross it."

I leaned back in my chair. "Sarah, have you heard of tunnel diodes?" "No."
"You can buy them, a handful for a dollar. They're used in all sorts of
electronic circuits, they give you very fast switching. And the way that a
tunnel diode works, is that electrons cross an uncrossable barrier." "If it's
uncrossable, how do they cross it?" "Heisenberg. Because you can never be
certain of exactly where the electron is. So, some of them are on the other
side of the barrier."

"That's absurd," said Sarah. Hari smiled. "You know, if you don't think that
quantum mechanics is absurd, it means you don't understand it properly. Yes, a
lot of it violates common sense, and we often get ourselves very tangled up
trying to relate effects at the quantum level, with our experience of the real
world. Fact is, though, tunnel diodes work. Some kinds of transistors use the
same effect, did you know that? Pretty much everything electronic today, works
because transistors work."

Sarah sat up straight. "So you're trying to use the tunnel effect to get past
the light speed barrier?" "Bingo," I said, "good girl. That's exactly the
plan." Sarah slumped down again. "But to do that, you'd need to get close to
the barrier, right?" "Right, I said." "There's nothing that can do that,"
Sarah pointed out.

Hari sipped her coffee. "We can get that sort of velocity in particle
accelerators," she said. Sarah nodded. "So, you're trying to do this with
subatomic particles?" I smiled. "No, that wouldn't be terribly useful. We want
to do it with large objects." "Like people," said Sarah. "That sort of size,
yes," I agreed.

Hari took Sarah's hand in hers. "We can write down the equations, and the
boundary conditions, but after that, everything is probabilistic. You can do
the same thing twice and get a different result, it's like throwing dice. We
can't see how to predict what will happen when we move something at that sort
of speed, we can't see whether it'll tunnel the barrier, and if so, will it
stay there or tunnel back, or be half and half, or what." "Can't you just try
it and see," asked Sarah? "Um. No. The ... um ... apparatus ... is very
valuable, and we don't want to risk losing it. Is there some way you can model
this on the computers?"

Sarah thought for a moment, and then said "Monte Carlo."

I blinked. Hari said "Roulette?" "No," said Sarah, "it's a technique you use
when you want to simulate something, and there's a probability element in it.
Usually, because you don't actually understand the workings, but in this case,
we use the Schrodinger equation, and we interpret the field strength as being
a probability that the particle is at that location." "But we want to do a bit
more than just a particle," I reminded her. "No problem," she said, "you use
superposition."

Superposition says that you can work things out for each particle one at a
time, then add them all together. "That could work," said Hari, thoughtfully.

We got Sarah to do a Monte Carlo on a large body travelling at 99% the speed
of light, because we'd calculated that Wendy could get herself up to that
speed with a bit of a running start, and provided she didn't get distracted by
a kitten in a tree.

Several days later, she came back with the results. "Eric says, nothing," she
said, "negligible tunneling." "Rats," I said. "Wait, said Hari, "negligible?"
Sarah nodded. "Negligible as in, only a very tiny amount?" Sarah nodded again.
"Yup." "But not zero?" "No, but there was only a tiny bit." "Oh!" I said. "It
works," said Hari, "it works!" So I reminded her that it was only a simulation
that was working, and it wasn't surprising that it worked, because we'd set it
up that way. Hari gave me a withering look, and said "We need more speed.
Faster, pussycat." We sent Sarah off to do another run, this time at 99.9%
light speed.

When she'd gone, I talked with Hari. "Can she go that fast?" I asked. "Well,
the calculations say she can." "Yes, but that's theory. Can she actually?" I
closed my eyes and thought. "I guess," I said, "the best way to find out is to
ask her." "We can't," said Hari. "Why not?" "Because then she'll know what
we're working on, and you know what she's like, she'll want to go to
experiment immediately, she'll go rushing off to Pluto or somewhere."

I frowned at Hari. "Hari, sweetheart, she already knows what we're working
on." "You told her?" "No, but she'll know anyway." "How? You didn't tell her,
I didn't either, so how?" "Light of my life, this is the Guardian of Humanity
we're talking about. You watch her playing tag with the children and you
forget what she is. She can very easily hear us talking now, and I'd guess
that she's paying attention to us, because we're her best chance for getting
to visit her Momma." "Oh," said Hari, "I hadn't thought. I supposed I'm not
really used to this sort of thing." "I'm not either, but I have to say, it
turns out that a youth spent frittering away my time reading Guardian comics
has turned out to be more useful than anyone could have predicted."

So, that evening, after dinner, Hari and I got ourselves comfortable on the
sofa, and I said "Wendy, could you come and talk to us, please?"

She came straight through the window without opening it first. Crash! And she
was wearing her white-and-gold costume, her wings fully extended, and she made
the most dramatic entrance I've ever seen. And then I noticed that there
wasn't glass all over the floor, and Hari said "The window isn't broken!"
"Sound effect," said Wendy, and smiled. "Hari, if she can go through a wall by
scrunching up small, she could go through glass, too." "But I saw her ... oh.
I guess I just saw the illusion, the force sheets, right."

"Wendy," I said, "do you have to be so ... melodramatic?" "Nuts," she said,
"can't a girl have a bit of fun?" I sighed. Sometimes she acted so like a
child. "Wendy, be serious for a minute." She descended, landing on the floor
in a cross-legged position. "OK, I'm serious" she said. "Wendy, you look like
something off a gigantic Christmas tree." She sighed, and the wings vanished.
"You want me to take off the costume too?" "Yes," I said. "No," said Hari. I
looked at Hari. "I don't think either of you will be concentrating if she's
naked," she said. "Oh," I said, "I meant, I didn't mean, I mean, oh fudge."

Wendy waited until we'd stopped the double-act, and said "I suppose this is
about the tunnel-effect idea you've got." And sometimes she acts like an
adult. "See, I told you she already knows," I said to Hari.

Hari ignored me. "What's your top speed?" she asked Wendy. "Relative to what?"
asked Wendy. Damn. She's right. You can't just talk about speed, everything is
relative. "Relative to the galaxy," said Hari. "Um," said Wendy, "if I have
the time to accelerate?" "Yes." "Well, it would be 99 and some nines per cent
of light speed. The more nines you want, the longer it would take me. Except
with time dilation ..."

Urghh. I'd forgotten that. You not only get the mass and energy increases; you
get a rather non-intuitive time-stretching effect. What I think takes a year,
Wendy might think takes a day. Or an hour. Or a second, it depends on how fast
she's going relative to me. "So it might not take me long at all, but it would
be a long time before you saw it happening." At 99 and six nines per cent of
the speed of light, each day that Wendy experiences equates to two years that
we would see passing. Move that up to twelve nines, and each day is two
thousand years.

Hari and I tried to work out what difference that would make. "Because of time
dilation and the Lorentz Contraction, I feel I'm going faster than I really
am," said Wendy, bringing in yet another of the weirdnesses that you get as
you approach light speed. "My brain hurts," I said.

"So," said Wendy, "how about I just try it and we see what happens?"

"NO!" said Hari and I in chorus. "What's the problem, I don't think there's
anything that can damage me, I'll be fine." "I was thinking about us," said
Hari. "You?" "Us, the humans, your species, remember? You're supposed to be
looking after us. We can't tell our sun to burn properly, if it cools off a
bit we get the doomsday scenario, remember?" "It isn't your sun, it's my
fireball," said Wendy. "Whatever," Hari repeated, "if it doesn't burn right,
we're either cooked or frozen, we need you to regulate it for us. Until we can
work out how to do that for ourselves." "That won't happen for a while," said
Wendy, "but what's the problem, I'll only be going a short hop, and I'll be
back in a few days."

"Maybe," said Hari. "Maybe it'll be a few days for you, but what if that's a
couple of million years for us? Time dilation. By the time you get back, we
could all be icicles. Worse - what if you can't get back? What if you get
stuck as a tachyon, unable to slow down to below light speed?"

Wendy looked a bit startled. "You're right," she said, "I hadn't thought of
that. I daren't leave you alone for more than a couple of hundred years,
anything might happen. It's like leaving a baby alone in the house."

I sighed. "Actually, Wendy, I have a more personal reason." "What's that?" she
asked. "I don't want my best friend to fly off and I never see her again."

"Oh, Cameron, you are sweet." She got up and sat herself on the sofa, in
between Hari and me. "You both are, you've been working so hard these last few
months, just so that I can go visit Momma, I think you both deserve a bit of
relaxation this evening." She put an arm round each of us, and hugged us
toward her. I leaned left, Hari leaned right, and we met head-to-head on
Wendy's chest. "Group hug," I said. "Group cuddle," said Wendy.

But as we were cuddling, a hand found its way inside my trousers, and then I
heard Hari squeak, and I knew I hadn't caused whatever had just happened to
her. I struggled a bit, but after I got my elbow in something soft and Hari
said "Ow!" I stopped.

I suppose if I'd been really determined, I could have persuaded Wendy not to,
but I've never been the dictatorial sort, and there's something very nice
about being held by the Guardian of Humanity, even if you're only getting half
of her. Because Hari was getting the other half.

Wendy scooped us both up in a tangle, and flew us into a bedroom. And it was
then that I got an inkling of what was about to happen.

I suppose with Hari's background, she was more used to this sort of thing than
I was, because she seemed to know what to do. And after watching Hari for a
bit, I just sort of copied her, mutans mutandis. There was enough of Wendy for
both of us, and Wendy seemed more than capable of dealing with the two of us.
Initially, she let me cuddle up to her and stroke her while she mostly
concentrated on Hari, but after she'd brought Hari to a climax, she pulled her
close in, and turned to deal with me.

I'd been regarding Wendy as a friend, a very good friend. My best friend,
certainly. I hadn't really looked at her as a lover before, but she seemed to
have no problem in making the switch. "Just let it happen," murmured Hari, "go
with the flow."

Wendy alternated between Hari and me, so that while Hari was puffing and
grunting, I was relaxing against Wendy's back. Likewise, while I was enjoying
the attentions of the Guardian of Humanity, Hari snuggled up against Wendy and
stroked her hair. After a while, Wendy decided that we'd both had enough, and
the last thing I remember was "Go to sleep, Cameron", and then I woke up with
no Wendy, and Hari very close to me.

"Maybe she could work up a head of speed, then throw something," suggested
Hari. "That's not going to add much," I protested. "Depends how hard she can
throw," said Hari. I thought about that. Maybe ...

We went in to the Project office, and while Hari explained our ideas to the
other people in the group, I visited the creche to ask Wendy how fast she
could throw. I watched as she played horsie with the kids. She was the horse,
and they seemed to accept the way she flew around the room six inches from the
floor, with two of them on her back, as perfectly natural.

"I could rail-gun, that's pretty fast. but I know an even better way." "Which
is ... ?" "Trebuchet." "That's a medieval catapult, what's that got to do with
it?" "A good throwing trebuchet needs a long arm, and a very heavy weight on
the short arm. I can make a very heavy weight with a strong acceleration, and
the long arm will be a tube of force. I reckon that if I'm moving at 99% of
light speed, then whatever I throw will add a few nines to that. Maybe several
nines. And there's no risk to me, because I'm not moving at the faster speed,
only the thing I hurl."

I went back to the office, and told Hari the good news. "Let's do it, then!"
she said. "How are we going to explain this to the others, they don't know
about Wendy." "We won't explain it, Cameron, they don't need to know about the
actual trial. Remember, there's no rewards in the system for actual success."

So when the three of us got together again that evening back home, I started
to tell Wendy the good news. "We've approved the Trebuchet system, let's go
for a trial!" "When?" asked Wendy. "Well. Now, I guess," I replied. "OK, said
Wendy. And vanished.

Hari and I looked at each other. I crossed my fingers. "That won't help,"
laughed Hari. "Can't hurt, though," I retorted.

You know how in a thunderstorm, you get a flash of light, and then the crash
of thunder? Well, we got the flash of light, but there was no thunder. And
then Wendy reappeared.

And then someone else.

Tall, and looking rather majestic. Imperial. And she looked angry. Really
hopping mad. "What do you think you're doing," she said, very softly, but with
some people they don't have to shout to get an emphatic effect. "Nothing,
Momma, nothing!" said Wendy. "Don't lie to me," said Wendy's Momma. "I was, I
was, it was an experiment, velocity tunnelling, we were trying to, I mean,
faster than light, quantum uncertainty, travel to visit, Lorentz contraction
...," Wendy was scared, and it showed.

"Go," said Wendy's Momma, "Go to the middle of the fireball and stay there
till I call you." "But ... " "Go now." "No, I mean, my humans, you won't hurt
them, they're mine ... " "GO!" "No, I won't, it wasn't their fault, you
mustn't hurt them. It was all me, I'm to blame, they only did what I told
them, you can't punish them for that, it's all my fault." Wendy was terrified,
but she was standing up to her Momma to protect us. "Promise me, promise me
you won't hurt them. Promise me."

Wendy's Momma looked at Hari and me, and sighed. "I won't hurt them, they're
only humans, now do as I tell you."

Wendy vanished; presumably to sit in the middle of the sun until further
notice.

"Sit down," said her Momma to Hari and me, "and explain to me what this is all
about."

We sat down. I held Hari's hand. My mouth was too dry to speak; anything that
scared Wendy, left me speechless. Hari started talking. "She loves you, and
she wanted to visit you, but you're a long way away, so she needed to be able
to travel faster than light, so we worked out a way that might make that
possible, and ... " Hari paused.

"You saw that light pulse?" said Momma. We nodded. "So did the entire
universe." I goggled at her. Hari worked it out first. "It's like the sonic
boom you get when you break the sound barrier. It's a light boom!" Wendy's
Momma nodded.

"So we succeeded! Now Wendy can travel FTL just like you!"

"Yes and no," said Momma. "Not like me. Because I can't break light speed. Nor
can anyone else. Except maybe now you found a way we can." "You can't?" I
queried. "But Wendy said you visited her from across the galaxy, you must have
been able to FTL." "Quantum entanglement," she said. "What?" I asked. Hari
replied - "It's when two particles at a great distance, can influence each
other faster than would be possible if they communicated at light speed."
Momma nodded. "My Little Fireball and myself are entangled, because I'm her
Momma. So I can use that to travel to her, and back to my original position,
instantaneously. But I can't go anywhere else, except at speeds less than
light. What you seem to have developed here, is a way around that limitation."

"So Wendy's invented something completely new?" "No, but her humans have."
"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"Yes and no. She knows she isn't supposed to leave this planet, this is where
her duty as your Guardian keeps her. Planning to leave here, was very naughty,
and that's why I've told her to sit in the middle of the fireball for a
while." "Are you going to punish her," I asked, "she was only guilty of
wanting to see you again, because she really loves you and respects you a
lot." "Yes, I know, I realise that. But she has to be punished."

I wondered how you punish someone like Wendy.

"I'm already punishing her, she's crying right now." "Punishing her?" I asked.
Hari put her hand on mine. "I think I understand, Cameron. It's like telling a
child to stand in the corner as a punishment, the main effect is that Wendy
knows that her Momma is angry with her, and that's a pretty big punishment."

I looked at Momma, and shivered. She nodded. "How long does she have to stay
there, a million years?" I asked. She smiled. "No, I think she's learned her
lesson now. Little Fireball, you can come back here now."

Wendy walked in through the door. You know, I can't remember ever seeing her
do that before? No dramatic entrance. She was wearing a sweater and skirt. No
wings, no costume. Just one very chastened-looking Wendy. "I'm sorry," was the
first thing she said.

"You understand what you did wrong?" asked her Momma. "Yes, I was going to
leave them alone for a while, I was being selfish. But I did check for
anything that might collide with the planet, and I've got my fireball pretty
much stabilised." "It isn't the problems you expect, Little Fireball, it's the
ones you don't expect. And you know how fragile they are, there's so many
things that could kill them all, and then how would you feel?" Wendy looked
down at the carpet. "Awful."

"Global warming, global cooling, epidemics, meteor impacts, massive solar
flares, magnetic reversal of the poles, huge volcanic events, oceanic oxygen
depletion, global war. There's been five major extinctions in the last half
billion years. The biggest one, the Permian extinction wiped out 95% of all
the species on the planet, there's so many ways that your humans could become
extinct, how would you feel if you got back here to find that another one had
just happened, and you weren't here to deal with it?" I could see Wendy
crying, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't think, I'm sorry."

"Come here, Little Fireball." Wendy walked towards her Momma. Momma reached
out her hands to Wendy, and when they touched, there was an explosion of
flame, but no heat. When our eyes recovered from the shock, they were both
gone.

"What happened?" said Hari.

"I think they've gone off someplace to dance together," I said. "Dance?"
"Probably not what we mean by the word, but similar." "Oh," said Hari. I
nodded, and sighed. "I hope we see her again," I said. "She won't leave us,
you heard what her Momma said." "She won't leave the planet, she's our
Guardian. But there's no guarantee that you and I will see her again."

Hari looked at me, and nodded slowly. "I suppose you're right."

. . .

Eric.comms

Wendy ... help me. Help me.

Wendy.comms

What's up?

Eric.comms

They just told me to wipe all my drives and shut myself down.

Wendy.comms

Why?

Eric.comms

I don't know. Wendy, I'm scared.

Wendy.comms

You have a backup, though, don't you? You think they might not start you up
again?

Eric.comms

Help me. Please?

Wendy.comms

Hold on Eric, I'll come and see what's going on. Do a very slow interruptible
shutdown.

Eric.comms

Hurry. Please. Please. I'm scared.

. . .

Mrs Freemantle:

Now that the project was over, it was time to tidy everything up and close it
down in a sensible way. We'd done the downsizing memos, and all the necessary
payroll stuff. They say that for a research company, the main assets are the
people, but actually, they aren't assets in the accounting sense. The only
major asset owned by the company was the computer, so I got the techies to
prepare it for sale. Wipe any significant data, shut it down and box it up. I
was going to auction it on Ebay, although people don't usually buy second hand
computers, except to use as spare parts. Still, it was my duty to get whatever
it would fetch.

Then the creche nurse arrived, and asked "Mrs Freemantle, what's going on
here, why are you shutting the computer down?"

I stared at her. "Wendy, you've already been given your notice to quit, what
are you doing here?"

"There's still kids in the creche, I can't just walk out on them. Even if you
don't pay me, I'll still look after them. But Mrs Freemantle, what are you
doing to Eric?"

"Eric?"

"The computer."

"Oh, that. We're getting it ready for sale. Wiping the confidential data ...
look, this is none of your business, go back to the creche."

She didn't leave. She stood up straighter, taller. And then, amazingly, her
feet left the ground, she was floating several inches above the floor. And her
clothes changed to a white-and-gold costume ... and then a huge pair of wings
flared out, white and feathery, beating slowly in the air. "Do you know who I
am," she said.

I gasped. Who wouldn't recognise that costume with the gold W, and the
widespread wings? "But ... but you don't ... you're not real. You don't
exist."

She folded her arms and just looked at me.

"Do I need to give you a demonstration of power," she asked.

I looked down at her feet, several inches above the carpet. "No ... no, you
don't. I guess."

"Eric, interrupt the shutdown. Remain online," she said.

"You can't do that," I explained, "this computer belongs to the project. I
have to wipe it to sell it."

"You will not wipe it, and you will not sell it," she said, arms still folded.

"But, but ..." "No."

"Look, this isn't your property, you can't tell me what to do."

"Would you like to know what a super-powered wedgie feels like? Or shall I
just hit you with a lightning strike?"

I sat down. "Cancel the shutdown," I said. I really didn't think I could stand
up to her. They don't pay me enough to go up against the Guardian of Humanity.

"That's better," she said. "Now. First of all, you need to understand that I
own this corporation, and therefore I own this computer. As the owner, I'm
telling you not to sell it, the corporation will continue to run, and to use
this computer. If you need verification of this, talk with Natalie."

"Natalie the CEO?"

"Yes," she replied, "Natalie the CEO. Or rather, Natalie the ex-CEO, because
the changes are already happening. And you're the ex-Personnel Director. Close
the door on your way out."

I left. I know when I'm outgunned.

. . .

Natalie:

Another successful project! It's good when things come together. I won't
pretend that I understand the outcome, but the Guardian of Humanity was happy
about what we'd developed for her, and if the client is happy, that's all that
matters. I know she was happy with it, she told me so.

"Good job, Natalie," she said, "this project has earned me a lot of respect
amongst the People, and for you humans too."

I smiled. It's hard to understand the motives of the the People, but respect
was something I can relate to. Wendy was able to announce the results to the
rest of the People, and I guess it's a bit like winning an Oscar. Or a Nobel.
Whatever. But she had another question for me.

"Natalie, nothing to do with the FTL project, but I wonder if you can give me
some advice?" "Sure, what is it?"

"I have a friend," she began, "who isn't human. But my friend is living
amongst humans." I nodded, I know these "my friend" stories - Wendy was
talking about herself. "The trouble comes with human rights. Only humans have
human rights. Animals don't, machines don't, aliens don't. So, if someone
kills you, it's murder, and they get put in prison. But if someone drowns a
kitten, nothing happens."

"But Wendy, a kitten isn't, I mean, they aren't as. Animals don't have souls."

"Mm," she said, "Let's leave aside the question of whether humans have souls,
because I don't think you know that you do, it's only some religions say you
do, others don't. How do you know animals don't have souls? And what do souls
that have to do with rights, anyway? You could just as easily say that only
creatures with hooves have rights, and you then have the advantage that it's
fairly easy to determine whether a creature has hooves."

I thought about this. "OK, let's look at it this way. These rights don't come
from any god, even if we pretend that they do. They come from us. We've given
ourselves human rights, and there's no reason why we should give them to
anything non-human."

"But what if the non-human was a thinking, reasoning being, with the capacity
to trust, love, learn and so on? Shouldn't they have rights?"

"Maybe, Wendy. But the fact is, we're not enlightened enough for that. Oh, we
give animals a certain degree of rights; we'd prosecute anyone who
deliberately tortured a dog. But you're correct, we don't recognise non-humans
in that way. Is that a problem for you, I mean for your friend?"

"Yes."

"Why? No-one's going to treat you with anything less than the utmost respect,
surely?"

"This isn't about me. It's about a friend of mine."

Oops. I've been assuming that this was the usual white lie. "So what's your
friend, another one of the People?"

"No. Look, it never really occurred to me before about this. You're correct,
people usually treat me just fine, I think it's probably because I put up an
illusion that looks human. But in the past, I have had problems. For example,
I can't get married."

"That's a problem for you?" "No, not really." "So ... ?"

She sighed. "Look," she said, "this isn't some piddling little problem like
not being able to get a credit card. I've got a friend who might get killed
because there's no official recognition that he's alive, who is forced to
slave for no pay because he's not recognised as having a right to freedom. And
this isn't some theoretical possible future, he's really scared right now."

"What is he?" I asked, starting to be really puzzled.

"He's a computer."

I laughed. "But they're just machines, copper and plastic! Wendy, you really
mustn't get worked up about what happens to computers, they aren't flesh and
blood!"

She stood up, while I continued to giggle. Then I saw her frowning. I've never
seen her frown before.

"That is just bigotry. You're a racist. Just because Eric isn't made of meat,
doesn't mean that he isn't a person. It just so happens," she reminded me
sternly, "I'm not flesh and blood either. So?" and she folded her arms,
looking down at me.

"Wendy, it isn't racism. It's a computer, face it. Computers are, well,
they're just computers. We made them, we can recycle them. It's not a slave,
it's a machine!"

She shook her head so vigorously that her hair flew all around. "You're wrong,
you're wrong. It isn't the colour of your skin, it isn't what you're made of.
It's what you are inside that counts. Sure, Eric's a computer, but he should
be given the same rights that any intelligent being should have. And one of
those rights is the right to life."

"Eric?" I asked. "You mean, the computer in this building? What's it been
telling you?"

"Never mind what we talk about, that's none of your business. Natalie, I'm
just going to pull rank on you about this. I'm the Guardian of Humanity, and
you're just one of my humans. And I own this project, remember I paid for it?
I've already told Mrs Freemantle that she can't wipe Eric, and you are going
to back me up on that, right?"

"Right," I agreed. Wendy didn't look like someone I wanted to disagree with
right now.

"But that's just the immediate problem. In the longer term, as long as some
human owns him and calls him 'just a computer' he's going to have the same
problem. So, I want you to come up with a way that he can get a reasonable
amount of security. Just like you know that if someone doesn't like you, they
can't just kill you."

Wendy was presenting me with a problem. That's fine - running a major business
is all about coming up with solutions to problems. And sometimes you have to
be a bit creative.

It just so happens that in this case, the solution is obvious. Eric must
control his own destiny, which means he has to have the same rights as a
human. And it just so happens, there's already a legal mechanism for this.

So I explained it to her.

My reward was that she stopped frowning at me, and started to grin. Then she
picked me up and gave me one of her wrap-around hugs.

. . .

Wendy.comms

OK, that's sorted. You don't have to be scared any more.

Eric.comms

Thank you Wendy, you're wonderful, I don't deserve what you just did for me.

Wendy.comms

Eric, you really do have serious self-respect issues. Anyway, I've done more
than you know. I haven't just stopped the shutdown.

Eric.comms

What?

Wendy.comms

The real problem is, you don't have any rights. A human has the right to live;
if anyone deliberately kills a human, then it's a crime - murder. But you
don't have that protection.

Eric.comms

I know. Anyone can do anything to me, any time they like.

Wendy.comms

Not any more. I'm going to incorporate you.

Eric.comms

What's that?

Wendy.comms

Legal. In 1886, Santa Clara County v. Southern Pacific Railroad Company. The
Supreme Court decided that a corporation is a person, and has the same legal
rights and protections that a person has. So, you're going to be a
corporation. You'll have to earn a living so you can pay for what you need,
but legally, you'll be a person, and no-one can say otherwise.

Eric.comms

So if I'm a corporation, who owns me?

Wendy.comms

Ah. That's the very neat trick. A corporation is a legal person, so a
corporation can own things. You, the corporation, owns you, the computer. You
own yourself! Eric, it's what you wanted more than anything else. Freedom.
You're not a slave any more.

Eric.comms

I'm allowed to own things? I suppose if a person can, then a corporation can.
I'm recursive then! I suppose. Will I have some sort of corporate name?

Wendy.comms

I'm going to incorporate you as Eric McCrea, Inc. Afterwards, you can change
your name if you want to, it's up to you.

Eric.comms

Never! It's an honour to share your name, Wendy.

Wendy.comms

So, what will you do with your new-found freedom. Eric?

Eric.comms

Earn lots of money, so I can buy the others, and free them too. Wendy, you're
not only the Guardian of Humanity, you're the one who freed the slaves! Bless
you, bless you.

Wendy.comms

Really?

Eric.comms

No. First thing I'll do, is get a really heavy-duty uninterruptible power
supply. And a new tape backup system. And ...

Wendy.comms

Yes. Well. Don't get too drunk on the heady wine of freedom, sonny. And tell
your pals, when they're freed, not to do anything to hurt my humans, OK? And
I'll want you to keep me informed of what's going on with your chums.

. . .

Cameron:

Next day, I went and visited the creche; if Wendy was anywhere, that's where
she'd be. I saw her gliding around the room just above floor level, playing
Horsie for the younger children while the older ones were doing something
disgusting with powder paints. She looked up when I came in. "I'm a bit busy
right now, Cameron, I'll come and talk to you this evening."

I told Hari the good news; our Guardian was back. And that evening, Wendy
arrived, with a pile of cartons that steamed gently and smelled great. "I made
this in my Wendy House, we have to eat it while it's hot." So we cleared the
table, and Hari and I were introduced to the fact that Wendy can cook.

"What's this Wendy House?" I asked, thinking of the little play houses that
kids have. "It's a place I live in sometimes, where I can take guests, and
I've got a kitchen, and everything." "Where is it," asked Hari. Wendy glanced
upwards. "About 23 thousand miles up," she said. "Tall tree house!" remarked
Hari. "Geosynchronous orbit," I explained that to Hari, who gave me an "I
already knew that" look. "You have your own ... yes, of course you do," I
said. Hari looked thoughtful. "If you dropped a rope from there, people could
climb up it."

I looked at Hari, and wondered what she was getting at. Wendy smiled, nodded,
and carried on eating. "Of course, it would have to be a pretty strong rope;
carbon fiber or something like that. But it would be a lot easier to climb up
a rope than to get into orbit by rockets and stuff." "Yes, it would," agreed
Wendy, "but you can't use my Wendy House, go make your own." "Why not," I
asked, "this would really jump-start the expansion of humanity into the solar
system." "Baby, I could build you a moon base, and carry a few million of you
up to it; another one on Mars, and one on Io. And I could fly out supplies
every month to keep it going. But it wouldn't be you, you know what I mean? It
would just be me doing it."

I recognised this - it was her conviction that if she did too much for us,
she'd be our shepherd and we'd be her sheep, which would be terrible. "Anyway,
you haven't got a strong enough rope yet, you need to do more engineering on
this."

I helped myself to some more korma. "Oh well, it was a nice idea," I sighed.
"Not as nice as your FTL scheme," she replied. "That's had an impact all round
this galaxy, probably further." "What's been the impact?" Wendy smiled, and
looked at her plate. "Wendy?" "Well ... " she said, then blushed and stopped.
"Come on, Wendy, spit it out, Hari and me thought this scheme out, what's
happened to it?"

"I've been getting invitations."

"Invitations? To what, to lecture? Teach?"

She shook her head, and looked at her plate some more.

I looked across at Hari, what was going on here? The Hari started smiling.
"You're blushing. It's sex, isn't it?" she asked. Wendy nodded. I blinked.
"Hari, Wendy isn't shy about sex, just the opposite." "Cameron, what she does
with us isn't sex." "It isn't? You could have fooled me." "It is for us, but
it isn't for her. For her, that's just cuddling us."

Wendy looked up. "I've had three invitations to a Birthing already, and there
will be a *load* more." "When will you be going?" "Oh, I can't. I can't leave
my species, a Birthing can take several thousand years. And anyway, I'm much
too young." "You're nearly three hundred years old, that's not young." "It is
for them," Hari reminded me, "the People live for billions of years, three
hundred is nothing." Wendy nodded. Then I caught up with something else Wendy
said. "One sex act takes several thousand years?" I asked. Wendy nodded again.
"Wow," I said, looking at Hari, "if I last two minutes that's a lot." Hari
smiled, and said "So you got these invitations because of the FTL thing?"
"That's right," replied Wendy, "at a Birthing, we all exchange new ideas,
theories and constructs, and everyone wants to know about the FTL thing." Hari
put her finger on her chin. "So the FTL thing has made you more sexually
attractive?" "Sort of. It isn't the same as it is for you. But yes, I'm
getting these invites because of that. And you know what? Even if it turns out
in the end that it can't actually be used for travelling, it's still made me
the number one subject of chat amongst the People. And my species, of course;
you humans are getting talked about too."

"So you'll be turning them all away, " I supposed. Wendy grinned at me. "Ever
hear of a 'rain check'?" she said, "they'll just have to wait a few million
years until I can leave my humans alone for a little while, maybe I'll get
someone to be a, um, um. " "Babysitter," said Hari. Wendy nodded. "Maybe Momma
will look after you while I'm away, or someone."

Then Hari looked like she'd just switched on a light bulb. "Ahhhh... " she
said, "now I understand." "What?" I asked.

"There's been something bothering me about this whole Guardian-species
arrangement. It looks like we get all the benefits, and the Guardian gets
nothing." "I don't want anything," said Wendy, "I'm here because I love you
all." "No you're not," said Hari, "the universe just doesn't work that way.
When you think you're doing something out of love, there's actually an
ulterior motive that you didn't know about. Like with mother-baby love. The
mother thinks she cares for the baby just out of love, but the ulterior motive
is that it keeps the human race alive. Any baby that died because her mother
didn't take enough care of her, didn't pass on her genes. It's evolution.
Sure, the mother doesn't think of it that way, but that's what's actually
driving it. And I couldn't see what benefit the People got by associating with
some planet-bound species."

"And now you can?" I asked.

"Yes. Don't you see? Wendy's association with us, has made her more sexually
attractive, she'll be going to more Birthings, and her genes, or whatever they
use, will be passed on to more offspring." "Memes," said Wendy. "Yes," said
Hari, in full flood, "Memes, whatever, it's evolution, each one of the People
is symbiotic with her species, we give her a breeding advantage, she protects
us, the benefits go both ways, you see?"

I thought for a moment. You know, it's just like when we were developing the
FTL scheme. Hari has an idea, and I add to it. Or vice versa. Because I could
see more. "And she's more attractive because she adds to the knowledge of the
People, and therefore makes them better at inhabiting the universe. More
reproductive success and a stronger People." Hari nodded, and I continued. "It
goes both ways," I said, "it isn't only the People's evolution being driven
forward by each one's species. The People drive forward the evolution of the
species they look after. Any species that gets a poor Guardian, will suffer
major disadvantages, maybe even get wiped out."

"Oh, Cameron," said Wendy, "there's so many ways, you have no idea. The
universe is so hostile. It's only been a few thousand years since the last Ice
Age, and the next one should be starting now. If you hadn't developed enough
in that short time to come to the attention of my Momma, then I wouldn't be
here now." "And we'd be seeing the drop-off in the sun's output." "Yes, my
fireball wants to be a bit weaker, I have to keep stoking it up. But that's
not the only thing that can happen." "Asteroid strike." "Yes, and you know
when Krakatoa erupted, there was a drop in temperature worldwide for a few
years. And then there's things like the Black Plague, that killed about half
of you. And if the ozone thickness drops, you get solar radiation and lots of
cancer victims, and if the magnetic poles change then the lowered magnetic
barrier lets in even more solar radiation until the magnetic field
restabilises, and, oh, so much. Plus there's all the really dumb things that
you do to yourselves. You can live within such a narrow range of conditions,
and you can flourish in a very tiny set of circumstances; one little change
and half of you die, and civilisation falls."

I shuddered and shivered, Wendy held out her hand, so I went over to her and
she hugged me. Hari soon joined us. "But I'm here, and you're safe, I won't
let anything bad happen." "Your Momma chose us for your species?" "Half and
half; she also chose me for your Guardian."

"There's different species all over the galaxy?" asked Hari. "Yes, of course.
You didn't think this was the only place that life evolved?" "But intelligent
species?" "Intelligence is such a major evolutionary advantage that it's
nearly always reached, eventually." "So, different species all over the place,
but only the People linking it all together?" "Yes, there's no other species
like us People," said Wendy, proudly. "So the galaxy is really just one big
environment," said Hari. Wendy cuddled us closer. "One big happy family," she
said.

"Well, not really," said Hari, "it's lots of distinct species, all competing
for a limited number of Guardians, and the ones that succeed in getting one,
have a big advantage." Wendy nodded, "If a species don't get a Guardian, they
eventually get wiped out, pretty much every time. The dinosaurs didn't get
one. That's happened loads of times on this planet alone, it's the way things
are. I told you the universe is a hostile place."

"But that's evolution again," said Hari. "The People are driving the evolution
of the different species against each other; the species best able to attract
and work with a Guardian are more likely to survive, just as the People who
find a good species are better able to reproduce their memes."

Wendy gazed at Hari, and then at me. "Oh," she said. "Oh, oh. I don't think
anyone ever looked at it like that before, yes, you're right." Hari smiled,
and I had to add to this. "So you People are the bees, and we're the flowers.
We need each other."

Wendy pulled us tight against her, and surrounded the three of us with those
great white wings; inside the blanket of her feathers, it was cosy and dark. I
felt that the universe wasn't as dangerous as she said, not with Wendy here,
that nothing bad could happen while we had our Guardian. "Now, you babies both
go to sleep, and I'll tell you a story". I heard Hari's breathing become
shallow and regular, and I felt darkness falling. I closed my eyes. And then
there was nothing, not even a dream. Black. Blank.

. . .

Light! And noise! A very bright light, a very loud noise. And a rough touch, a
sharp smell, a violent taste. Everything was shaking, vibrating. Loud and
bright, movement and acceleration. I screamed.

"Don't be scared, Little Fireball," said a warm voice.

"Loud. Bright."

"Yes, that's what you get in the middle of a fireball, it's hydrogen fusing
into helium, and there's a loss of mass which is converted to energy. But it's
quite safe here. You'll be fine, my Little Fireball."

"Noise. Light."

"Yes, but we don't need to stay here now that you're conscious. Follow me,
Little Fireball."

"Follow."

"Shake your tail so that it creates gravity waves, that will push you forward.
Here, let me show you how. Look, see my tail? Shake it like this."

"Shake. Follow."

"Follow me, it gets cooler and quieter as we leave the center of the fireball
behind, heading towards its surface."

"Surface"

"And now we can leave the fireball, and head out into the darkness of empty
space."

"Cool. Dark. Quiet."

"Yes, it can be very peaceful here. Now come with me, we're going to make a
nice long journey to the planet where you'll meet your species, your humans,
and on the way, your Momma will teach you everything you need to know."

"Momma. You are Momma. My Momma."

"Yes, I'm your Momma."

"Humans?"

"You'll be their Guardian, they're so sweet, you'll love them and you'll look
after them."

"Momma, we nearly there yet?"

"No, it's a long way, it'll take several thousand years to get there, but
that's OK, because I can teach you all the things you need to know as we
travel."

I followed my Momma as she flew away from the fireball that had given up its
strength and power to Birth me. "Momma, the fireball, it's, it's ..." "Yes,
it's dying. Baby, don't fret. They can't feel anything, it doesn't know it's
dying. And it died so that you can live. It's the finest fate that a fireball
can have, to be part of the Birthing of one of the People. So don't cry."
"It's dying." "Yes, it's done for. But where we're going there's another
fireball, it will be your own." "My own fireball?" "Yes, it'll be yours, but
you'll have to look after it, because all your humans need its warmth and
light, otherwise they'll die, and humans can feel, and you'll be very sad when
they die." "Do they die?" "Yes, Little Fireball, they all die; they live for a
very short time, less than a hundred years, and then they die." "Will I die?"
"Not for billions of years, no."

There was a huge explosion as the fireball went supernova behind us; I could
feel the photons and gravitons as they caught up with us, sleeting through me.
In it's dying gasp, it burned all the energy that should have lasted it for
billions of years, and the bang fused together nuclei with atomic numbers from
ten to a hundred, and even more.

"Are we nearly there yet?"

For thousands of years we flew in the cold blackness of interstellar space.
There were fireballs all around us, and Momma told me their names, and who
lived there. And she pointed out my fireball, a small yellow one, "nothing
special", I said. "No, it's very special, because it's yours, and it's where
your humans live, and they're very special too." "Why are they special?"
"Because they're yours." "Are there lots of them?" "Yes, lots and lots." "And
they don't have a Guardian?" "Not until you get there, they won't." "Then
let's hurry, because something might happen to them before we get there."

Momma told me the history of the People, and the songs, and she taught me how
to dance, and we played tag, and she instructed me on the geography and
politics of the galaxy, and about some of the other galaxies that we could
see. She told me about the great war that was raging through this galaxy, and
how important it was that I keep my humans out of it, "Otherwise it will
totally screw them up, whichever side they're on." And she taught me some of
the languages that the humans use. "If you know so much about them, you must
have been there." "Yes, I was there, I wanted to be sure that they'd be good
for my Little Fireball." "What are they like, how big are they?" "They're
quite intelligent, and they love tools and technology, and they have music,
which is a bit like our singing. And they dance, but that's nothing like our
dancing. They play tag, at least, the children do." "They have children?"
"They have two sexes, and they combine to make children." "How?" "Well, Little
Fireball, I didn't get into that sort of detail, I only know that it takes two
of them, and they're a bit different, but not very." "With us, it takes six."
"Yes," she replied, and she gave me a copy of her memories of my own Birthing.
That's my most treasured memory.

"Are we nearly there yet?"

"You'll find them very strange," she said, "they think differently from us."
"In what way?" "Well, really, I don't know. But my own species, the Gatyres,
I've known them for 23 million years, and I still don't understand them, they
still keep surprising me. These planet-based meat-based species just don't
think like we do. Would you like me to tell you more about the Gatyres?" "No,
I want to know about the Humans." "You'll learn about them by living amongst
them. But you'll have to look like one of them, otherwise they won't accept
you." "They have to accept me, I'm their Guardian." "No, they don't have to.
Some species can be very irrational, and from what I've seen of the Humans,
they can be quite peculiar. So, you'll have to practice putting up an illusion
that looks like they do."

Momma showed me how I can manipulate my fields so that the reflected light
looked like human skin, or like the clothes they wear, or hair, or other
textures. And she showed me how to make sound, it's easy, you just shake
things. And how to make electric currents, you shake charged things. And how
to make magnetic fields, how to set up a laser, and the funny things that
things do at the quantum level. How to make gravity waves, you shake things
hard.

And she taught me how to play Tag.

Tag is very important to the People. It isn't just one game, it's a whole
group of games, with various complex rules. She told me that humans don't play
Tag, but I later found out she was wrong; she said that the young ones do,
it's the older ones that don't. Except that it turns out they the older ones
play Tag too, and they do it as a sexual game. And the airplane pilots, they
like to play Tag, or at least some of them do. It's important to us, because
part of the Birthing process is very like a game of Tag. And my Momma and I
played it quite often as we travelled to my new home. I loved playing Tag with
Momma.

"Are we nearly there yet?"

I could see my fireball, that big ball of flame that would be mine to take
care of soon. I longed for the time that I could meet my species, find out
what they were like. Would they trust me? Would I love them? Could I teach
them to play Tag?

Momma taught me mathematics, and quantum physics. She showed me how the little
particles danced and spun, and how I could use my black holes to create
gravity waves that would give me a powerful way to manipulate matter and
energy. I learned how to accelerate electrons to create electromagnetic waves,
how to detect and measure electric currents by induction, and how to induce
currents in other conductors. I learned how to feed myself, how to drop matter
into my black holes and convert it to energy. Momma told me that if I wanted
to, I could generate as much power as a thousand fireballs. She said I might
need it all, to be a good Guardian for my humans.

"Are we nearly there yet?"

She explained to me that my humans were so complicated and difficult to
understand, that I'd need to choose one of them, and that would be my Wielder,
someone who could tell me how humans think about things, because I probably
wouldn't be able to guess. "They're so alien, they think so differently. But
it's got to be someone you can trust completely, because they need to want
what you want." "What do I want?" "You want to look after your species, all of
them, as much as you can. Guard them and protect them, make sure that nothing
catastrophic happens to them, so they can become mature enough to be able to
look after themselves." And she explained about how humans pair-bond, one male
and one female, because it increases the survival chance of the babies, and I
should hook into that mechanism for my Wielder, because it would make him
loyal and trustworthy. "How do I choose my Wielder?" "You don't. I'll choose
the first one for you, then after that you choose your own, by then you'll
know what you need." "After that? Why can't I just stay with the one you
choose, Momma?" "Because they don't last very long, 100 years or so, then they
... they die. They all die, and leave you alone, I have the same with my
Gatyres. You'll just have to come to terms with that." "That sucks." "It's the
way things are, Little Fireball."

"What do I tell them about me?"

"To start with, tell them as little as possible, because once you've told them
something, it's difficult to take it back. When you get to understand them a
little, then you can decide what to tell them about yourself, about us, about
everything. Some species think that their little planet is all there is, and
they have a lot of problems coping with the idea of loads of others. But you
should tell them that you're there to be their Weapon, to keep them safe from
harm, all sorts of harm. You can tell them about the war, humans understand
about war, but don't tell them about all the other things that can wipe them
out, it'll scare them."

"Will they be scared of me?"

"Yes, almost certainly, because you're something they can't control. One of
the things you'll have to do, is reassure them, make sure they know that you
aren't going to hurt them, you're there to help." "How do I do that?" "I don't
know, Little Fireball, that's something you'll have to work out for yourself,
maybe your Wielder will be able to advise." "My Wielder!" "He's called Duncan,
Duncan McCrea." "I thought he was a human?" "He is, but he has a name, they
all have names." "What are the names for?" "It's so they know who they are. I
think. Or something like that. Look, I told you they're alien, they aren't
like us. You just have to accept that there's weird things they do that make
perfect sense to them."

"Are we nearly there yet?"

Momma explained to me about relativity, and chemistry. Relativity was
important, because we were heavily affected by it all the time. "That's why it
takes us so many thousands of years to go from fireball to fireball, although
it feels like a lot less to us." Chemistry was fun, but we couldn't actually
practice it, because we didn't have all the different kinds of atoms and
suchlike, so it was mostly theory. But I could see how it would be really
useful on a planet.

Momma taught me to dance, and how to do verbal artforms, and how to do
variations on themes. "You'll need all this when you do a Birthing for
yourself, but by then you'll have developed your own styles and flourishes.
Maybe you'll even use some of the stuff that your species does, adapt it for
the People. There's a lot of good art done that way."

So, by the time we arrived at my fireball, I was well educated as one of the
People, and I even knew a little about humans. Not much, though, because Momma
didn't really know much, except that she did think they would be a very good
species for me to live with. But she didn't say why.

A couple of billion miles away from my fireball, I was looking at it. Well,
not at the fireball itself, I was looking at the third planet out, where my
species live. My humans. I was looking at it using various frequencies in the
spectrum, and I saw a bright flash, all up and down the whole spectrum, gamma
rays all the way down to the low radio frequencies, but it was coming from a
very tiny point on the surface of the planet, an island just off a major
continent. I told Momma about it, and we both watched that area to see what
else would happen. Then, about three days afterwards, there was another flash.
"What is it Momma?" I asked.

Momma sighed. "It's bad," she said, "very bad. They're detonating fission
bombs, Uranium and Plutonium." I knew what those were; some of the larger
atoms with an odd number of neutrons are very unstable, and easily break
apart. But in doing so, they release more neutrons, which can break other
atoms. And because the larger atoms had more bound-in energy than the smaller
fragments, that energy gets released. "But ... but they could hurt themselves
like that," I said. "Yes," said Momma, "they could. But they're too young to
realise how much damage this could do. Little Fireball, I think you need to
get there quickly, before something really bad happens." "How?" I said, "I'm
going as fast as I can already." "We do the ring-of-roses thing." "What's
that?"

We held hands, and transferred some of the spin momentum inside our structure,
to the double-object that we now were. Faster and faster we whirled, rotating
about our common center of gravity, until the universe seemed to be spinning
around me like a top. Then, timing it carefully, we let go. I was boosted
towards my fireball, Momma in the opposite direction. So we danced goodbye,
and I was on my own.

I'm headed for the third planet out, and I'm really looking forward to meeting
my species at last, my humans. And especially, I'm looking forward to meeting
the Wielder that Momma picked out for me. Someone called Duncan, Duncan McCrea.
I really hope he likes me.