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The State of the Art(22)

By:Iain M. Banks


up last year, it seems.The professor has been

waiting for some time, sir.'

'I'll see him later,' Cesare said, clicking the

intercom off and going back to the Reader's Digest



'Hell, I don't know what it is.'

'I think it fell off an S.S.T.'

The patrolman rubbed his chin.The other cop was

poking a stick at the bundle lying across the old

tractor.The thing was about three metres long and

one in diameter, and whatever it was its colours

kept shifting and changing, and whenever anything

touched it, it got hot.The tip of the stick smoked.

'Who should we tell about this anyway?' said the

cop with the stick.He wanted to have this cleared

up as quickly as possible and get away from the

smell of pigs coming from the barn across the yard.

'I guess the F.A.A.,' said the other, 'or maybe the

Air Force.I dunno.' He took off his cap and fiddled

with the badge, breathing on it and polishing it on

his sleeve.

'Well I'm claiming compensation, whoever it

belongs to,' Bruce said as they went back to the

house. 'That's a lot of damage that thing's

done.That'll cost a few bucks to set right.That

tractor was nearly new, you know.I'm telling you;

nowhere's safe now with those S.S.T.s.'

'Hmm.'

'Uh-huh.'

'Hey,' Bruce said, stopping and looking at the two

cops with a worried expression on his face, 'do

you know if Liberia registers S.S.T.s?'



Professor Feldman sat in the outer-outer office in

Cesare's suite at the top of the I.M.C.C. building in

Manhattan and looked through the abstract of his

report for about the eightieth time.

The secretary, a clean-cut young man with an IBM

9000 desk terminal and a M.23 submachine gun,

had shrugged his shoulders sympathetically after he

had at last been persuaded to call through to

Cesare's office.The professor said he would just

have to wait, and went back to his seat.There were

seven other people waiting to see Cesare apart

from himself.Two of them were Air Force generals

and one was the foreign minister of an important

developing country.They all looked nervous

without their aides, who were kept in the outer-

outer-outer office to avoid crowding.According to

the others, they had been waiting there, seven or

eight hours each day, five days a week, for at least

the last three weeks.

This was the professor's first day.



The factory ship moved through space in one of the

dust-rich arms of the main galaxy, its net-fields

like great, invisible limbs stretched before it,

gathering its harvest like a trawl and funnelling the

ensnared material into the first-stage Transmuters.

In the mess of the Third Clean-Up Squad, things

were going badly for Matriapoll

Trasnegatherstoleken-iffre-gienthickissle, jnr.He

had almost completed a full circuit of the room

without touching the floor when a collapsible chair

collapsed beneath him, and now he had to go back

to the start and begin all over again with one paw

tied behind his back.The other members of the

Squad were making bets on where he would fall

and screaming insults.

'7833 Matriapoll and Mates to briefing room

fourteen!' blared the mess-room speaker.

Normally Matriapoll would have welcomed this

interruption, but he was on top of the speaker

trying to grab hold of a light fixture at the time, and

the shock of the speaker suddenly bursting into life

beneath him made him lose his grip, and he

thumped down onto the floor to the accompaniment

of hoots and laughter.

'Bastards,' he said.

'Come on, Matty,' chuckled his Mates, Oney and

Twoey, their tiny, dextrous hands quickly untying

his arm and dusting him down.They straightened

his clothes and bustled out in front of him as

Matriapoll paid what he owed to the others in the

Squad and then left for the briefing room.



The Air Force didn't know what it was either, but

it wasn't anything of theirs, they were sure of that.

They certainly weren't going to be paying any

compensation.But they decided to take the thing,

just to see what it was.

The Air Force came in a big truck that didn't quite

make the turn off the road onto the farm track, and

knocked down a metre or two of fencing.Bruce

said he'd sue.

They took the bundle away wrapped in asbestos.

At the Mercantsville Airbase they tried to find out

what the object was, but apart from deducing that -

from the way it felt - there was something inside

the oddly-coloured outer covering, which now

appeared like mother-of-pearl, they didn't make a

great deal of progress.

Somebody in I.M.C.C. got to hear about the object

and the Company offered to open it, or at least

make a further attempt, if the Air Force would let

them have it.

The Air Force thought about this.The mysterious

bundle was resisting all attempts to open it or even

see inside.They had tried metal tools, which