The creature's voice seemed to be growing clearer as it spoke, as if every word brought it a greater understanding of Ramón's language. He wondered how long he'd have to talk to the thing before it took on a Mexican accent and started cussing. "And if I do not function as you wish?" Ramón asked.
The alien paused, as though briefly puzzled. "You live," it said finally. "Therefore, you exercise your function. Nonfunctioning, you could not exist. To exist and yet not exist-you would be a contradiction, aubre, a disruption in the flow. Aubre cannot be tolerated. To restore balanced flow, it would be necessary to deny the illusion that you exist."
That at least was clear enough, Ramón thought, feeling gooseflesh sweep across his skin. He chose his words carefully when he spoke again. "And what function am I to fulfill?"
The hot orange eyes fixed on him again. "Take care," the alien warned. "That we must interpret your tatecreude for you is a sign that you incline toward aubre. But we will grant you a dispensation, as you are not a proper creature. Listen: a man has escaped from us. Three days ago he fled from us, and we have not been able to find him. By this act, he has shown himself to be aubre, and so proved that he does not exist. The illusion of his existence must therefore be negated. The man must not be allowed to reach a human settlement, to tell other humans about us. Should he do so, that would interfere with our own tatecreude. Such interference is gaesu, prime contradiction. Therefore you will find him, negate him, in order to restore balanced flow."
"How am I supposed to find him if you could not?"
"You are man. You are the same. You will find him."
"He could be anywhere by now!" Ramón protested.
"Where you would go and where he would go-they are the same. You will go where he has gone, and you will find him."
Ramón considered that.
"So you mean there's a man out there who found you and got away, and now you want me to help you catch him before he can get back to civilization? You want me to hunt for you? Is that what you're saying?"
The thing in the cables considered this.
"Yes," it said.
"And why the fuck would I do that?"
The deep, awesome, booming sound rose from the depths of the planet below. Ramón was reminded again where he was, and to what sort of creature he was speaking. Vertigo washed through him. The great alien didn't seem to notice his distress.
"You are imbued with purpose," it said, almost patiently. "Your heart beats. You exchange gases. You do so for a purpose. To be and yet be without purpose is contradictory. Your language is flawed in that it can express illusory states. Your purpose is to aid in locating the man. If you are without purpose, the illusion of your existence must be rectified."
Well, Ramón thought, that was clear enough. Hunt or die. The answer was simple. He would lie. He had no intention of playing Judas goat for these demons, but likewise he would never be able to break away from them as long as he was ass-deep in their mountain. If he could make his way to the open air, there was at least hope. A chilling thought struck him.
"How long did you keep me here?" he asked. "Is it still summer out there? Because tracking some mad fucker in winter isn't going to work."
The beast was silent. Ramón grew impatient. If the time he had spent in darkness had been long enough for the seasons to change, escape from the aliens would be suicide. The weather would kill him as effectively as a knife in the ribs.
"How long was I in that fucking vat?"
"Three days," the thing said without hesitation.
Ramón felt a stab of fear, sharper for being unexpected.
"The man you want tracked down. That's how long he's been running? All the time I've been here?"
The alien paused for a long moment, before its deep, hoarse voice answered.
"Yes."
This far to the north, there was no way it could be coincidence; Ramón had been followed. Some poor fucker from the constabulary had come north after him, searching for the European's killer, and instead had walked into this scene from Hell. Ramón couldn't help imagining it-a Diegotown cop, or maybe one of the governor's own security agents, making his stealthy way toward Ramón's camp only to find scorched ground, twisted plastic, and these monsters flying from the great metal wall he had uncovered. Had the bastard had time to call for help? No satellites reached this far north, but the police had radio they could bounce off the atmosphere. Had the aliens destroyed the policeman's van as they had Ramón's?
Ramón had been poor all his life, and, like most poor people, the instinct to be afraid of the police had been burned into his soul. The thought that they had been close enough to him to fall into the same alien snare brought the coppery taste of panic to Ramón's mouth. And yet, his logical mind told him that the constabulary was his best hope now. Usually the last thing he'd want to see were the police, but there were situations dire enough, like this one, when even somebody like him, who had frequently run afoul of the law, would be damn glad to see the cops coming over the hill. If word could get as far as Fiddler's Jump, aid would come. The military forces of the colony. Ramón had to hope that the man who had been set to follow him was as good at fleeing as he'd been at shadowing him.
And if the cavalry came, and Ramón was freed, what then? He had killed the European. Would the governor still be hot to have Ramón hanged for it? Or would his part in discovering the alien nest win him amnesty? He was trapped between the Devil and the deep blue sea.
"All right," Ramón said. "You want the guy found, I'll find him for you. He's no friend of mine." He rubbed his chin shrewdly. It wouldn't do to give in too easily, though. Even things as strange as these might recognize that as subterfuge. "If I do this thing for you," he asked slyly, "what do I get out of it?"
The alien stared at him for several long moments, long enough that Ramón began to fear that he had overplayed his hand. "You are an improper and contradictory creature. Aubre may manifest in you. We will ensure against such manifestations by accompanying you."
"You? All of you?"
"We. Not-we. Your language is flawed, it admits contradiction where none exists. We will separate part of the whole. Maneck will sacrifice himself to maintain the flow. Maneck is we, and not-we. Maneck will accompany you and watch over you. Through him, your tatecreude will be protected."
Well, the thought that the aliens would send him out alone into the bush, trusting him to keep to the task they had assigned, was one that had always been too good to be true. But the fact that there would be only a single guard was a blessing. Two or three of the things would have been difficult to evade. More than that, impossible. Only one, however …
The alien who had led him here moved silently to Ramón's side. It was eerie-nothing so big should be so quiet.
"Maneck, eh?" Ramón said to the thing. "Your name's Maneck? I'm Ramón Espejo."
While Ramón was still wondering if he should attempt to shake hands with it, Maneck abruptly reached out and took him by the shoulders, lifted him like a doll, and held him immobile in the air. Ramón fought instinctively-nights at the bar and in the street coming back to his arms and legs in a rage. He might as well have punched the ocean. Maneck didn't budge.
Up from the pit rose a pale white snake.
Ramón watched in horrified fascination. It was obviously a cable of some sort-two bare wires protruded from the visible end-but its movements were so supple and lifelike that he could not help but think of it as a pale and sinister cobra. It reared almost to eye level, swayed slowly from side to side, and aimed its blind pallid head at Ramón. The head quivered slightly, as though the snake was testing the air in search of its prey. Then it stretched out toward him.
Again Ramón tried desperately to break free, but Maneck wrenched him effortlessly back into position. As the cable-snake came closer, he saw that it was pulsating rhythmically, and that the two naked wires in its head were vibrating like a serpent's flickering tongue. His flesh crawled and he felt his testicles retract. He felt his nakedness vividly now-he was unprotected, helpless, all of the soft, vulnerable parts of his body exposed to the hostile air.
"I'll do it!" Ramón shrieked. "I said I'd do it! You don't have to do this to me! I'll help you!"
The cable touched the hollow of his throat.
Ramón felt a sensation like the touch of dead lips, a double pinprick of pain, a flash of intense cold. An odd, quivering shock ran up and down his body, as though someone were tracing his nervous system with feather fingers. His vision dimmed for a heartbeat, then came back. Maneck lowered him to the ground.
The cable was now embedded in his neck. Fighting nausea, he reached up and took hold of it, feeling it pulse in his hands. It was warm to the touch, like human flesh. He pulled at it tentatively, then tugged harder. He felt the flesh of his throat move when he tugged. To rip it free would obviously be as difficult as tearing off his own nose. The cable pulsed again, and Ramón realized that it was pulsing in time to the beating of his heart. As he watched, it seemed to darken slowly, as if it were filling with his blood.