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The State of the Art(44)

By:Iain M. Banks


Can't you see how much this place has to alter in

just the next century?We're so used to things

staying much the same, to society and technology -

at least immediately available technology - hardly

changing over our lifetimes that I don't know any of

us could cope for long down here.I think it'll affect

you a lot more than the locals.They're used to

change, used to it all happening fast.All right, you

like the way it is now, but what happens later?

What if 2077 is as different from now as this is

from 1877?This might be the end of a Golden Age,

world war or not.What chance do you think the

West has of keeping the status quo with the Third

World?I'm telling you; end of the century and you'll

feel lonely and afraid and wonder why they've

deserted you and you'll be the worst nostalgic

they've got because you'll remember it better than

they ever will and you won't remember anything

else from before now.'

He just stood looking at me.The TV showed part of

a ballet in black and white, then an interview; two

white men who looked American somehow (and

the fuzzy picture looked US standard), then a quiz

show, then a puppet show, again in

monochrome.You could see the strings.Linter put

his glass down on the granite table and went over

to the Hifi, turning on the tape deck.I wondered

what little bit of planetary accomplishment I was

going to be treated to.

The picture on the screen settled to one programme

for a while.It looked vaguely familiar; I was sure

I'd seen it.A play; last century American writer, but

(Linter went back to his seat, while the music

began; the Four Seasons.)

Henry James, The Ambassadors .It was a TV

production I'd seen on the BBC while I was in

London or maybe the ship had repeated it.I couldn't

recall.What I did recall was the plot and the

setting, both of which seemed so apposite to my

little scene with Linter that I started to wonder

whether the beast upstairs was watching all

this.Probably was, come to think of it.And not

much point in looking for anything; the ship could

produce bugs so small the main problem with

camera stability was Brownian motion.Was The

Ambassadors a sign from it then?Whatever; the

play was replaced by a commercial for Odor-

Eaters.

'I've told you,' Linter brought me back from my

musings, speaking quietly, 'I'm prepared to take my

chances.Do you think I haven't thought it all through

before, many times?This isn't sudden, Sma; I felt

like this my first day here, but I waited for months

before I said anything, so I'd be sure.It's what I've

been looking for all my life, what I've always

wanted.I always knew I'd know it when I found it,

and I have.' He shook his head; sadly, I thought.

'I'm staying, Sma.'

I shut up.I suspected that despite what he'd just

said he hadn't thought about how much the planet

would change during his long likely lifetime, and

there were still other things to be said, but I didn't

want to press too hard too quickly.I made myself

relax on the couch and shrugged. 'Anyway, we

don't know for sure what the ship's going to do;

what they'll decide.'

He nodded, picked up a paperweight from the

granite table and turned it over and over in his

hand.The music shimmered through the room, like

the sun on water reflected; points producing lines,

dancing quietly. 'I know,' he said, still gazing at the

heavy globe of twisted glass, 'this must seem like a

mad idea but I just just want the place.' He looked at me - for the first time, I thought - without a

challenging scowl or stern coolness.

'I know what you mean,' I said. 'But I can't

understand it perfectly maybe I'm more suspicious

than you are; it's just you tend to be more

concerned for other people than for yourself

sometimes you assume they haven't thought things

through the way you would have yourself.' I sighed,

almost laughed. 'I guess I'm assuming you'll hoping

you'll change your mind.'

Linter was silent for a while, still studying the

hemisphere of coloured glass. 'Maybe I will.' He

shrugged massively. 'Maybe I will,' he said,

looking at me speculatively.He coughed. 'Did the

ship tell you I've been to India?'

'India?No; no, it didn't.'

'I went there for a couple of weeks.I didn't tell the

Arbitrary I was going, though it found out, of

course.'

'Why?I mean why did you want to go?'

'I wanted to see the place,' Linter said, sitting

forward in the seat, rubbing the paperweight, then

replacing it on the granite table and rubbing his

palms together. 'It was beautiful beautiful.If I'd had

any second thoughts, they vanished there.' He

looked at me, face suddenly open, intent, his hands

outstretched, fingers wide. 'It's the contrast, the' he

looked away, apparently made less articulate by

the vividness of the impression. ' the highlights, the