Weissenbaum's Eye - Stetten

Weissenbaum's Eye - Stetten - Chapter 22

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

At the other end of a maze of hallways, guided again by the trail of lights, Sand soon found another room much like the one he had been shown before, except this room contained a round table, four chairs, and a small unmade cot. On it sat a man with a beard and a ponytail, looking up as if he had been waiting. "Come in," he said without getting up.

The enemy you must respect. Benjamin Holly's silver eyes and clouded words were with him still. Sand looked into the face of a man who held a secret. "Sit down," said Don Andrews. Sand pulled back a chair and sat down. It scraped the floor, jarring him. Immediately upon sitting his legs were uncomfortable, so he stretched them out to one side of the table, and then pulled them back.

Don Andrews rose and stood across the table.

"So you are the artist." He leaned forward. "We are a long way from your teacher, now," he said. "The relay beacons that normally connected us to Earth have been disabled. Even Benjamin Holly cannot reach you here. What magic can you perform all by yourself?" Don Andrews circled the table with alarming agility, and stood face to face with Sand. He held silence with his eyes. "You are now at the end of your schooling. You are no longer free to do what you please." He laughed. "We are not interested in you convincing us. We are quite capable of judging on our own. Here, you are nothing more, or less, than a craftsman, just like the rest of us.

"Do not expect applause. You are here only to help a little, not bend us with your culture. There will be no interaction in our medium, between any of us. No two people will meet in any setting, except off the couch. There will be no escape through decadence again. Without people, we cannot be fooled again into thinking one is real when one is not. There will be no addiction in Backdoor."

Sand smiled and replied, "Your rule makes sense, not letting two people occupy the same simulation." He thought of his father. Sand had seen enough of addiction on the Earth. "But what exactly is our purpose here?" he asked, sensing that his calmness angered Don Andrews.

But the bearded man would not divulge further whatever grand arena he envisioned. There was always a majestic mystery, or perhaps a mania, about Don Andrews, something he could not share, but neither could he hide.

"You may go, now. We will meet at breakfast," he simply said.

Before Sand knew it, he had obeyed, and the hall lights were guiding him back to his room, where a cot had appeared. He lay down and soon was asleep.

Don Andrews walked over to a wall where, at his command, colored arrows spread to show the mapping of Backdoor's newborn medium. Here was displayed the growing wealth of detail in his fortress. Judy had done well in her first attempts with the spheres, and Sand would help. But Don Andrews worried, and his face showed the strain of a strong man torn by a stronger command. He clenched his fist and spoke to the wall.

"You have your artist."

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