"Why did Sulean Moi stay?"

"Because she was shocked by what she found here. On Mars, of course, the Fourths have existed for centuries, constrained by laws and institutions that don't exist on Earth. Martian Fourths buy their longevity with a variety of compromises. They don't reproduce, for instance, and they don't participate in government except as observers and adjudicators. Whereas all our Fourths are outlaws—both endangered and potentially dangerous. She hoped to bring Martian formality to the chaos."

"I gather she didn't succeed."

"Let's say her successes have been modest. There are Fourths and Fourths. Those of us who are sympathetic to her goals have funded and encouraged her over the years. Others resent her meddling."

"Meddling in what?"

"In their efforts to create a human being who can communicate with the Hypothetical."

"I know how grotesque that must sound," Diane Dupree said. "But it's true." She added, in a more subdued voice, "It's what killed my brother Jason."

What made this unquestionable, Lise thought, was the woman's obvious sincerity. That, and the wind rattling the blinds, and the human noise of the villagers going about their business, a dog barking aimlessly in the distance, Turk sipping his ice water as if these assertions were old news.

"That was how Jason Lawton died?" In the books Lise had read, Jason Lawton had been a casualty of the anarchic last days of the Spin. Hundreds of thousands had died in the panic.

"The process," Diane said calmly, "is deadly in an adult. It rebuilds much of the human nervous system and it renders it vulnerable to further manipulation by the networked intelligences of the Hypotheticals. There is—well, a sort of communication can take place. But it kills the communicant. Theoretically, the procedure might be more stable if it was applied to a human fetus in vivo. An unborn child in the womb."

"But that would be—"

"Indefensible," Diane said. "Morally and ethically monstrous. But it's been a terrible temptation for one faction of our community. It holds out the possibility of a real understanding of the mystery of the Hypotheticals, what they want from us and why they've done what they've done. And maybe something more, not just communication but a sort of communion. Commingling the human and the divine, if I can use those words."

"And the Martians want to stop this from happening?"

Diane looked subtly ashamed. "The Martian Fourths were the first to try it."

"What—they modified a human fetus?"

"The project was unsuccessful. The child didn't survive past puberty. The experiment was conducted by the same group of ascetic Fourths who raised Sulean Moi—she was there when the child died."

"The Martians allowed this?"

"Only once. Sulean Moi meant to prevent the same thing happening among our own Fourths, who are even less constrained by law and custom—or to interrupt the process if it had already begun."

The breeze was warm, but Lise shivered. "And has it? Begun, I mean?"

"The technology and the pharmaceuticals were distributed by Jason along with everything else Wun Ngo Wen brought to Earth. We've had the capability for decades, but there was no real interest in pursuing it except among a few… you might say, rogue groups."

"I thought Fourths had some kind of built-in inhibition," Turk said. "For instance, Tomas. Once he took the treatment he stopped drinking anything stronger than beer and he quit picking bar fights."

"We're inhibited against obvious aggression, but not so much so that we lack the capacity for moral choice—or self-defense. And this isn't aggression, exactly, Turk. It's callous, it's inexcusable, but it's also, in a sense, abstract. Pushing a needle into the vein of a pregnant volunteer isn't a perceived act of violence, especially if you're convinced of the necessity of it."

Lise said, "And that's why Genomic Security is interested in Sulean Moi."

"Yes. Genomic Security and every similar agency. It isn't just Americans who fear Fourths, you know. In the Islamic world the prejudice is especially strong. Nowhere is safe. For decades Genomic Security has been attempting to track down and secure every extant trace of forbidden Martian biotechnology. Probably less to destroy it than to monopolize it. They haven't succeeded and probably never will succeed. The genie is out of the bottle. But they've learned a few things in the course of their work. They learned about Sulean Moi, obviously. And the idea of Fourths interceding with the Hypotheticals scares the hell out of them."

"For the same reason you're afraid of it?"

"Some of the same reasons," Diane said. She drank from her glass of ice water. "Some."

The village muezzin called the faithful to prayer. Diane ignored the sound.

Lise said, "Sulean was in Port Magellan at least once before. Twelve years ago."

"Yes."

"Going about the same business?"

"Yes."

"Successfully? I mean, did she stop—whoever was involved—from doing this thing?"

Ibu Diane looked at Lise, looked away. "No, she was not successful."

"My father knew her."

"Sulean Moi knows a lot of people. What was your father's name?"

"Robert Adams," Lise said, her heart beating harder.

Diane shook her head. "The name isn't familiar. But you said you were looking for one of his colleagues in the town of Kubelick's Grave?"

"A man named Avram Dvali."

"Avram Dvali." Ibu Diane's expression became somber. Lise felt her excitement peak.

"Dvali was a Fourth?"

"He was. He is. He's also, in my opinion, just slightly insane."

CHAPTER TWELVE

After walking Isaac back to the compound Sulean Moi told Dr. Dvali about the flower.

The story seemed so improbable that it became necessary to mount an expedition and set out in search of the thing. Sulean didn't participate but she gave explicit directions. Dr. Dvali took three other men and one of the commune's vehicles and drove off into the desert. Dvali's excitement was predictable, Sulean thought. He was in love with the Hypotheticals—with what he imagined them to be. He could hardly resist the gift of an alien flower.

They were back by late afternoon. Dvali hadn't been able to find the sighted rose, but the expedition wasn't fruitless. There had been other unusual things growing in the dry wastes. He had collected three samples in a cotton bag, and he displayed them to Sulean and several other observers on a table in the common room.

One of his prizes was a spongy green disk shaped like a miniature bicycle wheel, with twig-like spokes and a gnarl of roots still attached to the hub. One was a translucent tube a centimeter in diameter and as long as Suleans forearm. The last was a viscid, knobby lump resembling a clenched fist, blue veined with red.

None of these things looked healthy, although arguably they might once have been alive. The bicycle wheel was blackened and crumbling in places. The hollow tube had fractured along its axis. The fist was pallid and had begun to emit an unpleasant odor.

Mrs. Rebka said, "Did these things fall with the ash?"

Dvali shook his head. "They were all rooted."

"They grew out there? Out in the desert?"

"I can't explain it. I would guess they're associated with the ashfall in some way."

Dvali looked expectantly at Sulean.

Sulean had nothing to say.

In the morning Sulean went to see Isaac, but his door was closed and Mrs. Rebka stood outside, her arms crossed. "He's not well," she said.

"I'll speak to him briefly," Sulean said.

"I'd prefer to let him rest. He's running a fever. I think you and I have to talk, Ms. Moi."

The two women walked out into the courtyard. They kept to the shade of the main building and sat together on a stone bench with a view of the garden. The air was hot and still, and sunlight fell on the fenced flowerbed as if it had an immense invisible weight. Sulean waited for Mrs. Rebka to speak. In fact Sulean had expected something hostile from Mrs. Rebka sooner or later. She was the closest thing Isaac had to a mother, though Isaac's nature had precluded any real emotional warmth, at least on his part.