A Day for Damnation

FORTY-TWO

THERE WAS a large security lockbox sitting on my desk. It opened to my thumbprint. Inside were three very fat mission books. Somebody had done a lot of work last night.

I spent most of the morning going through the books, my astonishment growing as I did so.

They'd listened to what I'd said.

The first book outlined how the military would deliver the presentation team to the target site and provide protection without being a physical presence. The choppers would be extensively camouflaged.

The second book described the duties of the observation team and how they would keep the physical presence of their monitoring devices to an absolute minimum.

The third book discussed what was known and wasn't known about the worms and the bunnies.

But it didn't say much about how to contact them.

I had an idea about that. It was something Ted/Tanjy had suggested. Listen with all your soul.

I tried to imagine sitting down and talking to a bunnydog. I couldn't. The best I could imagine was joining their cluster. Finally, I went to see Dr. Fletcher.

I stuck my head in her office door and knocked, "Got a moment?"

She looked up from the report she was studying. She had a sandwich in one hand. "Oh, James. Come on in. Did you read the books?"

"Yeah, that's why I'm here." I snagged a chair and sat down opposite her. "I assume I got the job."

"That was never the question," she said. "Do you want some tea?"

"Oh, today it's only tea, huh?"

"Hey-coffee's for special occasions. You're on the team now. I don't have to be nice to you any more." And then she asked, "What's the problem?"

I explained to her about the briefing books. There was nothing in them for me.

She put the last bite of sandwich into her mouth, nodded thoughtfully, waited until she finished chewing and wiped her fingers on a napkin. "Uh huh-and how would you make contact with the bunnydogs?" she finally asked.

"This is going to sound real weird, but I think General Poole was right. Dance naked with the bunnydogs."

"An interesting idea-" she said. She patted her mouth and tossed the napkin aside.

"I can justify it-"

"You don't have to. I know the reasoning."

"Huh?"

"We talked about this for a long time last night. We pretty well explored the subject."

"Really?"

"The military sat the meeting out. We accomplished a lot. I didn't put it in your book because I wanted to see how much of it you'd figure out yourself. You did good. Now let's see if you can get the second half of it. How would you prepare for such a dance?"

"It's obvious. Go into the herd."

"Mm."

"You're not going to argue with me? I've given this a lot of thought. "

She shook her head. She stretched over to her desk and picked up her clipboard. She settled it in her lap and switched it on. "When do you want to go in?"

"The sooner the better, I guess."

"Mm hm. Tomorrow morning?"

"Sure, I could do that."

"And how long do you want to stay?"

"Two days, three. Just long enough to get the sense of it."

"Mm hm." She was writing all this down.

"I figured I could wear a beeper collar, so you could track me."

"And-" she looked up, "-how do you figure we're going to bring you back?"

"Well, you could always break my leg?"

Fletcher smiled. "As a matter of fact, we might just have to do that. Let me give you some bad news about the herd, James; some things we've been finding out.

"We've been doing enzyme analysis on various herd members, and we've found that the brain chemistry is slightly skewed. There's a shift in the body's ability to produce certain memoreceptor activators. In other words, there's a chemical basis for the lack of timebinding. To some degree, it's a self-induced drug experience. But-" She hesitated. "It's the permanence of the effect that we can't understand. We have a ... theory, but-"

"Go on," I prompted.

"Well, you're not going to like this. We think it's another plague, only-not quite. It's not a fatal one. We think that there are some low-level Chtorran viruses spreading through the biosphere. The suspicion is that these viruses do not produce diseases as much as they shift out body chemistry-and as such shift our state of consciousness."

"Like a drug experience?"

"Mm, maybe. Maybe not. We think that the human species has always had this herding potential, but we've always been so acculturated that we've been able to channel the herding instinct into the service of the culture; but this viral effect so damages our chemoreceptors that we're-all of us-functioning right on the. edge all the time now. The slightest stimulus can push us over. In other words," she said somberly, "-it is now an act of deliberate will to be an intelligent and rational being."

"Hasn't it always been?" I asked.

She smiled. "I appreciate your cynicism-but, James, you need to appreciate the danger here. The process may be irreversible."

"Isn't there a counter-enzyme or a vaccination or something-?"

"We don't know. We don't have the people to do the research. Listen, I've given you the bad news. Now, let me give you the worse news. We suspect that the viral agent that unlocks the herding capacity is already so widespread in the human species that for all practical purposes it's transparent. We're all infected. Did you see the news this morning?"

"You mean the cleanup of the Capetown riots?"

"Mm hm. There was no reason for that madness-all that rage. It was as if all those people just went berserk at the same time. Could that have been another effect of the same virus? We don't know. I'd love to do a dozen autopsies, but with the political situation the way it is-anyway, you get the point, don't you?"

"We could all fall into herds tomorrow, couldn't we?"

She nodded. "Just waking up human is a victory."

"So... what you're saying is that if I go into the herd, you don't know that you can bring me back, right?"

"That is the risk," she admitted. "Do you still want to go-?"

"Wait a minute. I thought this was all theoretical-"

"Then you don't want to go?"

"I didn't say that either. You've already got this approved, haven't you?"

She nodded. "We have conditional authorization, if we can find a suitable volunteer." She looked at me pointedly. "Someone who understands the real nature of the problem.

"Here's what we realized last night. The whole question of sentience is premature. We can't even consider it until we know if our two species are compatible. Can humans and bunnydogs even herd together? Forget communication until that question is answered. "

"So, you were already planning a dance-?" I said.

"None of this was in your briefing book because I wanted to talk to you about it privately. I know your sensitivity to the herd, James. This whole thing could be very dangerous to you personally. "

"I came to you, remember?"

"James-I'm not trying to talk you out of it. I want you to go. I argued for this opportunity all last night. But it has to lae your choice. Before I can authorize this, you have to know what all the risks are, so you can choose responsibly."

"I know the worst that can happen," I said. "The bunnydogs could be the worm predators. I could get eaten. But I have to deal with that possibility every day I get out of bed."

"The worst that can happen," Fletcher said, "is that we can lose you to the herd."

I stopped my reply before it fell out of my mouth and reconsidered what she'd just said. I looked at her thoughtfully. "You've put people in the herds before, haven't you?"

Fletcher nodded. "And we've lost some of them too."

"How long can a person stay in the herd before he's lost?"

"It varies. It happens fast. Four or five days is the maximum safe time. Even that's pushing the margin. The experience is too intense. It's a mindwipe."

"All right-so all I want is two days. A day and a half. I'll go in tomorrow morning, spend the day getting acclimated, spend the night and participate in the next day's gathering. You can pull me out around dinner time. That'll give me a day to debrief and the weekend to assimilate the experience. Monday, I can get back to work on the mission."

She switched her clipboard off and put it back on her desk. "You're clear this is what you want to do?"

"I'm clear this is what I have to do."

"All right," she said, picking up her phone. "Jerry? It's a Go for tomorrow. Right. No, not at all. Thanks." She hung up and turned back to me. "Okay, we've got a lot of work to do this afternoon."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to train you."

"Train me? How do you train for a herd?"

"There are exercises we can do that will strengthen your sense of self. It might help."

"Meditation?"

"Mm, not really. Call it soul-centering. It's something from the Mode training-"

"I thought you were down on the Mode training."

She shook her head. "Nope. Only some of the people. I don't like what they're doing with it. But the training is one of the most valuable things I've ever done. It was the thing that kept me ... rational ... during the worst part of the plagues. I think it's what keeps me rational today. The truth is, I don't know if it will help or not. I just want to give you every advantage I can."

"I'll be fine," I said. "Really." She didn't answer.

"What's the problem?" I asked.

"I know you're confident. I know you've thought this out carefully. So have we. But I'm still scared. I know how easy it is to miss something. And I really would hate to lose you too... ."