The State of the Art(9)

over his slim shoulder.Cruizell moved slightly, and

Maust flinched.I saw him bite his lip. 'Wrobik,'

Kaddus said again. 'Were you going to leave so

soon?I thought we had a date, yes?'

'Yes,' I said quietly, looking at Maust's eyes. 'Silly

of me.I'll stick around for a couple of days.Maust, I

-' The screen went grey.

I turned round slowly in the booth and looked at

my bag, where the gun was.I picked the bag up.I

hadn't realized how heavy it was.



I stood in the park, surrounded by dripping trees

and worn rocks.Paths carved into the tired top-soil

led in various directions.The earth smelled warm

and damp.I looked down from the top of the gently

sloped escarpment to where pleasure boats sailed

in the dusk, lights reflecting on the still waters of

the boating lake.The duskward quarter of the city

was a hazy platform of light in the distance.I heard

birds calling from the trees around me.

The aircraft lights of the Lev rose like a rope of

flashing red beads into the blue evening sky; the

port at the Lev's summit shone, still uneclipsed, in

sunlight a hundred kilometres overhead.Lasers,

ordinary searchlights and chemical fireworks

began to make the sky bright above the Parliament

buildings and the Great Square of the Inner City; a

display to greet the returning, victorious Admiral,

and maybe the ambassador from the Culture, too.I

couldn't see the ship yet.

I sat down on a tree stump, drawing my coat about

me.The gun was in my hand; on, ready, ranged,

set.I had tried to be thorough and professional, as

though I knew what I was doing; I'd even left a

hired motorbike in some bushes on the far side of

the escarpment, down near the busy parkway.I

might actually get away with this.So I told myself,

anyway.I looked at the gun.

I considered using it to try and rescue Maust, or

maybe using it to kill myself; I'd even considered

taking it to the police (another, slower form of

suicide).I'd also considered calling Kaddus and

telling him I'd lost it, it wasn't working, I couldn't

kill a fellow Culture citizen anything.But in the

end; nothing.

If I wanted Maust back I had to do what I'd agreed

to do.

Something glinted in the skies above the city; a

pattern of falling, golden lights.The central light

was brighter and larger than the others.

I had thought I could feel no more, but there was a

sharp taste in my mouth, and my hands were

shaking.Perhaps I would go berserk, once the ship

was down, and attack the Lev too; bring the whole

thing smashing down (or would part of it go

spinning off into space?Maybe I ought to do it just

to see).I could bombard half the city from here

(hell, don't forget the curve shots; I could bombard

the whole damn city from here); I could bring

down the escort vessels and attacking planes and

police cruisers; I could give the Vreccile the

biggest shock they've ever had, before they got me

The ships were over the city.Out of the sunlight,

their laser-proof mirror hulls were duller

now.They were still falling; maybe five kilometres

up.I checked the gun again.

Maybe it wouldn't work, I thought.

Lasers shone in the dust and grime above the city,

producing tight spots on high and wispy

clouds.Searchlight beams faded and spread in the

same haze, while fireworks burst and slowly fell,

twinkling and sparkling.The sleek ships dropped

majestically to meet the welcoming lights.I looked

about the tree-lined ridge; alone.A warm breeze

brought the grumbling sound of the parkway traffic

to me.

I raised the gun and sighted.The formation of ships

appeared on the holo display, the scene noon-

bright.I adjusted the magnification, fingered a

command stud; the gun locked onto the flagship,

became rock-steady in my hand.A flashing white

point in the display marked the centre of the vessel.

I looked round again, my heart hammering, my

hand held by the field-anchored gun.Still nobody

came to stop me.My eyes stung.The ships hung a

few hundred metres above the state buildings of the

Inner City.The outer vessels remained there; the

centre craft, the flagship, stately and massive, a

mirror held up to the glittering city, descended

towards the Great Square.The gun dipped in my

hand, tracking it.

Maybe the Culture ambassador wasn't aboard the

damn ship anyway.This whole thing might be a

Special Circumstances set-up; perhaps the Culture

was ready to interfere now and it amused the

planning Minds to have me, a heretic, push things

over the edge.The Culture ambassador might have

been a ruse, just in case I started to suspect I didn't

know.I didn't know anything.I was floating on a sea

of possibilities, but parched of choices.

I squeezed the trigger.

The gun leapt backwards, light flared all around

me.A blinding line of brilliance flicked, seemingly