Shadowplay

WATCHER 7

The cluster of Cells focused on the Pilgrim Road were filling up with hordes of people as if the countries along the Road were draining into it. Ginbiryol Seyirshi scanned them repeatedly, tightening the focus onto individual eccentricities of the pilgrims, rejecting all but a few of the images, blending the remnant into a collage to heighten the feel of a swarm building toward an immensity powerful enough to eat the land.

Rebel activity in Nakiskwen (west coast), Kwamitaskwen (central plains), Kwamaskwen (north plains) and Swamiskwen (south coast) dipped to nothing as the population decreased to a skeleton of skeptics and thieves (public and private); in Wapaskwen (east coast) where the Mistiko Otcha Cicip was, where everyone was going, the rebels were growing more frantic, more disorganized-more violent. Ginbiryol clucked with satisfaction as he tasted and took scene after scene of burning and bombing, of streetfights and stoning, of kanaweh and kipaos killing and being killed, of Na-priests on the Question floor doing torture by the numbers because there was too much work for personal attention; what had been art was now mechanical process. The Pliciks drew in on them selves, retreated behind armed guards, bars, and a hardening resistance to change.

Ginbiryol labored steadily at his assemblage until he heard an exclamation from Ajeri Kilavez. He looked up. "What is it, Jeri tiszt?"

"Smuggler's pram. He's offworld and scooting for the Limit, Puk's on his tail, no chance of catching that pram, but he might get a missile off in time… yes, there it goes. Missed! Shit."

"Language, Ajeri tiszteh. Continue, please."

"Puk's after him… more missiles… the pram must have a slide shield, it's slipp'rier than a bead of mercury… Puk's dropping behind fast, I've never seen anything go like that sublight, 'specially that size… Puk's still trying, but he hasn't got a hope… you want me to keep on?"

"No. Call him back, there is no point in continuing this. Have you begun the Crust assessment yet?"

"The kephalos is working on that now…" she touched a sensor, scanned the readout, "it'll be finished in approximately twenty minutes. You want a preliminary, or shall I call you?"

"Call me." He went back to his editing, dumping and saving, cutting and juxtaposing, focusing down or expanding to wideshots.