Chapter 37 Chapter Thirty-Six
My eyes blinked and opened, looking around the vast, dark space of St. Peter's Basilica, momentarily blurred.This is Payson.In the dim candlelight, Monsignor Edward and Father Paul Dourey leaned forward, their expressions very eager.
"How long have I...slept?" It felt as if only a few seconds had passed, and those dreams were flickering visions of a person in the split second of lying peacefully asleep.
"Ten minutes," said the Monsignor, "can you tell us what you see?"
There's no reason to hide it from them.When I had finished describing the sights to them, Monsignor Edward made the cross. "My God, the ambassador of the core of technology is actually encouraging Yueshi to send people into those... tunnels."
Du Lei put his hand on my shoulder. "I will go to the God Forest to talk to the voice of loyalty of the World Tree first, and then I will go to the Whale Heart to meet you. This choice is too dangerous and stupid, we have to tell Yueshi."
I nod.I once wanted to go to the God Forest with Du Lei, and I also wanted to go back to Hyperion, and these thoughts are now gone. "I agree. We have to leave immediately. Can your... Pope's Gate take me to the center of the whale?"
Monsieur stood up, nodded, and stretched himself.It dawned on me that he was a very old man who had never had Paulson therapy. "That door has priority access rights," he said, and then turned to Du Lei, "Paul, you know that if I can go, I will definitely go with you. But the funeral of His Majesty the Pope, the election of the new godfather..." A slight mournful voice came out of Monsignor Edward's throat, "Even though the catastrophe of all mankind is imminent, it is strange that this daily duty should continue. Payson is less than ten years away from the barbarian invasion." Standard day."
Du Lei's high forehead shimmered in the candlelight. "Church business goes beyond a single day-to-day duty, my old friend. I'll pay a brief visit to Saints' World and then join Mr. Seven in persuading the CEO not to follow the advice of the Kernel. I'll be back when this is over, Edward, then I will discuss with you what this chaotic heresy is all about."
I followed the two out of the cathedral, through a side door, into a corridor behind a high colonnade, across an open courtyard on the left—the rain had stopped and the air smelled fresh—and down a flight of stairs , through a narrow tunnel, into the Pope's room.When we walked into the front hall of the room, several people stood at attention.These tall soldiers wear armor and striped yellow and blue breeches, although their ceremonial halberds are also energy weapons produced by the Ministry.One of them walked forward and whispered a few words in the ear of the Bishop.
"Someone just arrived at the main terminal to see you, Mr. Seven."
"Me?" I was listening to the voices in the other room, the melodious prayers chanted and cadenced.I guess it has something to do with the preparations for the pope's funeral.
"Yes, a gentleman named Hunter. He said it was urgent."
"I was going to meet him at Government House in a minute," I said, "why not let him meet us here?"
Monsignor Edward nodded and whispered something to the Swiss guard, who whispered something to the crest on the ancient armor.
The so-called Pope's Gate - a small teleportation portal surrounded by intricately detailed golden statues of seraphs and cherubs and topped by five bas-reliefs depicting the fall of Adam and Eve under grace , expelled from the Garden of Eden—squatting in the middle of a heavily guarded room.Entering from this room is the Pope's private chamber.We waited there, in a room with mirrors on every wall, our reflections inside looking pale and tired.
Lee Hunter entered, escorted by the priest who had led me into the cathedral.
"Severn!" cried Pleasant Stone's confidant, "The CEO wants to see you right away."
"I'm going to her," I said, "and if Pleasant Stone lets the core build and use that death weapon, she'll make a heinous mistake."
Hunter blinked—a reaction that was almost comical in that basset-hound face. "Severn, do you know what happened?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "A kid sitting unattended in a full-system picture well, seeing a lot but understanding a little. Still, if he gets tired of it all, he has a way of changing the channel, or turning the thing off." Hunter got to know Monsignor Edward through different occasions, and I introduced him to Father Paul Durley of the Society of Jesus.
"Dure?" Hunter said, his jaw almost dropped.It was the first time I'd seen the staff officer at a loss for words, and I liked the sight better.
"I'll explain to you later," I said, and I shook hands with the pastor. "Dure, I wish you luck in the Sacred Grove. Don't stay too long."
"One hour," the Jesuit promised. "It won't be longer than that. There's only one problem that's bothering me, and I have to get that out of the way before I go to the CEO. Tell her first." Tell me about the horror I saw in the labyrinth... I will explain it to her myself later."
"She's probably too busy to see me until you come," I said, "but I'll try to play your part."
Du Lei smiled. "My friend, don't lose your head." He nodded, entered the transmission code on the ancient touch display panel, and disappeared into the portal.
I bid farewell to Monsignor Edward. "We'll get this all sorted out before the Ouster attacks hit here."
The old priest raised his hand and blessed me. "Go, young man, and may God be with you. I feel dark times await us all, but you will carry a greater burden."
I shake my head. "My lord, I am only an observer. I wait, observe, dream. But nothing."
"Wait, watch, dream later," Lee Hunter screamed. "Your Excellency wants you to go to her now, and I have to hurry back to my meeting."
I looked at the little man. "How did you find me?" I was talking in vain.The teleporter is controlled by the kernel.And the inner core cooperates with the overlord authority.
"My lord gave you an override card, which also makes it easy for us to track your whereabouts," Hunter said, with an impatient tone, "We have to go back to the place where important things happened."
"Very good," I nodded to the Monsignor and his assistant, and beckoned Hunter to come over. I punched in three codes for the whale center, plus two codes for the mainland, and three codes for the government building, and finally are two numbers representing private terminals.The hum of the fartransmitter moved up the scale, and the opaque surface seemed to shimmer expectantly.
I stepped in first, and then stepped aside to let Hunter, who was right behind me, walk in.
We are not at the terminal of the central government building.As far as I know, we're not anywhere in a government building at all.A second later, my perception summed up the inputs of daylight, sky color, gravity, distance to the horizon, smells, how things felt, and I came to the conclusion that we were not in the center of the whale.
I would have quickly retreated back to the portal, but the Pope's Gate is too small.Hunter was coming out - leg, arm, shoulder, chest, and then another leg - so I grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him back roughly, yelling "something's wrong!" Stepped in again, but it was too late, the frameless portal here flickered, swelled into a circle the size of my fist, and disappeared.
"Where are we?" Hunter asked anxiously.
I looked around, thinking.Good question.We are in the countryside, on top of a hill.The road underfoot wound through vineyards, descended long hills, passed through a wooded valley, and disappeared near another hill a mile or two away.It was hot, and all sorts of bugs were buzzing in the air, but nothing bigger than a bird moved in this vast panorama.Between the cliffs to our right, there was a smear of blue water—could be a sea, or maybe a lake.Tall cirrus clouds rippled overhead, and the sun was just past zenith.I saw no buildings, nothing more technically complex than rows of vineyards and stone and dirt roads underfoot.More importantly, the constant background hum of the data network is gone.It’s a bit like someone who’s been basking in certain sounds since childhood, and then all of a sudden those sounds go away; it’s shocking, disconcerting, bewildering, and kind of scary.
Hunter's body reeling, he patted his ears, as if he had lost those voices too, and then patted the comlog. "Damn it," he muttered, "damn it. My implant's gone wrong. The comlog's gone wrong."
"No," I said, "I think we're outside the datanet." But even as I said that, I still heard some sort of deeper, softer hum—something wider than the datanet, Something harder to reach.Wanfang.com?The joy of the net, I thought, and laughed.
"Severn, what are you laughing at? Did you bring us here on purpose?"
"No, I punched in the correct government building code." There was no panic in my tone, which was scary.
"What the hell does that do? Is it the goddam Pope's Gate? Did it do it? Malfunction? Or a prank?"
"No, I don't think so. There's nothing wrong with that door. Hunter. But it takes us where the tech core wants us to go."
"Kernel?" When the CEO's assistant realized who was controlling the teleporter and who controlled all the teleporters, the little rosiness on Bassett's face quickly disappeared. net. "My God. My God." Hunter staggered to the side of the road and sat in the tall grass.His suede executive suit and soft black shoes looked out of place in this place.
"Where are we?" he asked again.
I took a deep breath.The air smells of freshly plowed soil, freshly cut grass, road dust, and the tingle of the ocean. "Hunter, I guess we're on Earth."
"Earth," the short man stared blankly straight ahead, "Earth. Not New Earth. Not Earth God. Not Earth Two. Not..."
"No," I said, "Earth. Old Earth. Or a copy of it."
"A replica of it."
I walked up and sat next to him.I tore off a grass stalk, stripping off the outer sheath at the base.The grass tastes sour and familiar. "You remember those Hyperion pilgrim stories I told Gladstone? Remember the story of Braun Lamia? Her and my cyborg counterpart... the first Keats reconstructed personality... Teleported to what they thought was a replica of Old Earth. If I remember correctly, they said it was in the Hercules star cluster."
Hunter looked up and seemed to be able to identify what I said by observing the constellations.The blue overhead is slowly turning gray as tall cirrus clouds spread across the sky. "The Hercules Cluster," he whispered.
"Braun didn't figure out why the technology core built this replica and what they're doing with it now," I said. "The first Keats Cyberman didn't know either, or he kept it secret. .”
"No," Hunter nodded.Then he shook his head again, "Okay, so how on earth do we get out of here? Pleasant Stone needs me. She can't... so many life-or-death decisions to make in the next few hours." He jumped up and ran to the middle of the road , thinking deeply, his energy was full again.
I was chewing on that grass. "I guess we can't get out."
Hunter rushed towards me as if to beat me up on the spot. "Are you crazy! Can't get out? Nonsense. Why would the kernel do that?" He stopped in front of me, looking down at me. "They don't want you to talk to her. You know something, and Kernel can't risk her knowing it."
"Maybe."
"Leave him and let me go back!" he shouted to the sky.
No one answered.In the distance across the vineyard, a large black bird fled from the sky.I think it was a crow, I remember the name of this extinct animal, it seems to come from a dream.
After a while, Hunter stopped screaming to the sky, and he paced back and forth on the stone road. "Come on. Maybe we can find a transmission terminal somewhere."
"Maybe," I said, breaking off the stem in two and chewing on the sweet, mellow top. "Which way?"
Hunter turned, watched the ends of the road disappear into the hills, and turned again. "We came out of the portal...it seems...from this direction." He pointed.The road went down the hill into a narrow wood.
"How far?" I asked.
"Damn it, what does it matter?" he growled. "We gotta go somewhere!"
I can't help but laugh. "Okay," I stood up, dusting off my pants, feeling the hot sun on my forehead and face.After the smoky darkness of the cathedral, this blinding light made me almost faint.The air was extremely hot, and my clothes were soaked with sweat.
Hunter began to walk down the hill with vigor, his fists clenched, his sombre expression beginning to improve, to be replaced by an expression of intensity—a determination.Only this one time.
I walked slowly, unhurriedly, still chewing on my stalk of sweet grass, and trailing with my eyes half-closed from fatigue.
Colonel Fedman Kassad yelled and charged the Shrike.With Kassad's furious dash, the surreal, out-of-time landscape—the Minimalist stage designer's Valley of Time Tombs, cast in plastic, built in a gel of viscous air— Also seems to be vibrating.
For a split second, there appeared a series of Shrike doubles—the barren flats of the valley were filled with Shrikes—but at Kassad's yell, the images melted back into a single monster.Now it moved, arms outstretched and bent, to meet the colonel's galloping embrace with a fierce embrace of blade and thorn.
Kassad wondered if the power skin suit he was wearing - a gift from Moneta - would protect him and help him in battle.Years ago, he and Moneta had attacked Ouster commandos in two dropships, but back then, time was on their side; the Shrike would freeze and unfix time at will, like a boring The observer is playing with the remote control of the holographic well.And now, they're out of time, it's the enemy, not some terrible Patronus.Kassad yelled and buried his head in the attack, he was no longer aware of Moneta's onlookers, nor of the improbable tree of thorns towering into the sky, stabbing its terrifying audience, he was no longer even aware of himself , he is just a fighting tool, a revenge puppet.
The Shrike didn't disappear like he usually does, he didn't just disappear from there and show up here again.Instead, he crouched there, his arms stretched wider and wider.The finger blades were stained with the light of the tyrannical sky.Metal teeth gleamed, as if smiling.
Kassad bristled, but he wasn't mad.Instead of rushing into the arms of death, he dodged to one side at the last moment, rolled sideways, and kicked at the monster's calf, below the tuft of thorns at the knee and above the same tuft of thorns at the ankle.just put it down...
Kassad felt as if he had kicked a pipe filled with eight kilometers of concrete.Kassad's legs would have snapped if it wasn't for the effectiveness of the armor and buffers created by the skin-like suit.
Bob labored, quickly but not unimaginably; the two right arms danced up and down, side to side, vaguely, and the blades of ten fingers cut into the ground and rocks, as if making a surgical furrow, and as the hands went up, As he paddled into the air, he heard the sound of rapids, and sparks flew from the thorns on his arms.Kassad was already out of its attack range, rolled over again, steadied himself, and crouched there, his arms tensed, his palms flat, and his energetic fingers straight.
One-on-one, Feldman Kassad thought.The most honorable sacrament of the new Bushido.
The Shrike feinted again with his right arm, then swung his lower left arm in, sweeping upward with enough force to shatter Kassad's ribs and rip out his heart.
Kassad blocked the Shrike's right arm feint with his left forearm, and the Shrike's steel and ax force hit him in the gut, and he felt the skin suit bend and the bone bruised.Kassad blocked the killing blow from the monster's left arm with his own right grasping just above the curved, spiky bouquet at the Shrike's left wrist.Incredibly, he had slowed down the momentum of that violent blow, and the scalpel-sharp finger blades were now scraping the force field of the skin-like suit, but they hadn't smashed the ribs to pieces.
Kassad fought against the raised claw so hard that he was almost lifted off the ground.Kassad was kept from flying backwards only by the help of the Shrike's first feint.Under the skin-like suit, sweat was profuse, muscles contracted, and the pain was unbearable, as if they were about to break one by one in the endless twenty-second struggle, and at this time the Shrike's fourth arm had not yet performed on stage, There was no downward slash at Kassad's tense thigh.
Kassad yelled, and the force field of the skin-like suit was torn, muscles snapped, and at least one finger blade nearly sliced into bone.He kicked hard with the other leg, let go of the monster's wrist, and rolled frantically into the distance.
The Shrike swung twice, and the second whizzed past Kassad's ear by a hair's breadth, but it jumped back suddenly, crouched, and turned to the right.
Kassad straightened up on his left knee, nearly fell again, then stood up staggeringly, bouncing slightly to keep his balance.Pain screamed in his ears, and his whole world was filled with red light.But even as he gnashed his teeth in agony and swayed, teetering on the brink of fainting from the painful blow, he could feel the skinlike suit wrapping itself around the wound - acting as both a tourniquet and a bandage.He could feel the blood on his calf, but it had stopped now, and the pain was tame, as if the skin-like suit was carrying medical syringes, like his army battle armor.
The Shrike charged at him.
Kassad kicked, kicked, took aim and found the smooth, chrome-like carapace beneath the chest spur.It seemed to be kicking the hull of the torchship, but the Shrike seemed to stop, staggering, backing away.
Kassad pressed forward, stabilized his center of gravity, and hit the monster's heart twice with clenched fists. If it hit tempered porcelain, it would have been shattered.Kassad ignored the sharp pain in his fist and spun his body, arms straight, palms wide open, and slammed into the monster's muzzle just above the teeth.If it were a human being, he would immediately hear the sound of his nose being smashed, and feel the bones and cartilage bursting into his brain.
The Shrike snapped at Kassad's wrist, but missed, and all four hands slammed at Kassad's head and shoulders.
Kassad, panting, sweating and bleeding from his quicksilver armor, swerved to the right, once, twice, and delivered the killing blow to the monster's short neck.The sound of that blow echoed through the frozen valley like the sound of an ax dropped from miles above into the heart of a metallic redwood.
The Shrike slumped forward, rolled in a circle, and was on its back, like some kind of steel beetle.
It fell!
Kassad moved forward, still crouching, still cautious, but in the end careless, missing the Shrike, and the monster's armored feet and claws, whatever they were, grabbed the edge of Kassad's ankle. Rear, half-cut, half-kick, knock him down.
Colonel Kassad felt a sharp pain, and he knew his Achilles heel was severed, and he wanted to roll away, but the monster leaped and fell sideways on Kassad, spikes, spines and The blade struck Kassad's ribs, face and eyes.Kassad, grimacing in pain, arched his body, trying in vain to shake the monster away. He parried several blows, shielding his eyes, but felt other blades slam into his upper arms, chest, and stomach. The point.
The Shrike moved closer to him, opening his mouth wide.Kassad looked up and saw rows of steel teeth standing out from the hollow holes in the metal lamprey's mouth.Red eyes filled his eyes, and those scenes had already been stained with blood red.
Kassad put his palm under the Shrike's chin, trying to find a positional advantage.He felt as if he was lifting a mountain of sharp waste with no fulcrum.The Shrike's finger blades continued to tear at Kassad's flesh.The monster opened its mouth wide, tilted its head, and finally, the rows of teeth pressed blackly in front of Kassad's eyes.The monster had no breath, but bursts of heat came from its mouth, and it stinks of sulfur and hot iron filings.Kassad was powerless to resist.As long as the monster closed its mouth, it would tear the flesh off Kassad's face, leaving only the skull.
Suddenly, Moneta appeared, shouting from where no sound could travel, grasping the ruby-faced eye of the Shrike, her skin-like suit fingers arched like eagle talons, her feet locked in place. Stepping firmly on the spiked carapace on the Shrike's back, pulling hard, pulling hard.
The Shrike's arm jerked back, its joints pliable like some kind of nightmare crab, and the finger blades slid toward Moneta, who fell, but Kassad had rolled out, crawling toward Moneta. Nita, he fought back the pain, jumped to his feet, and dragged Moneta back across the sand and still rocks.
In that split second, their skin-like suits joined together, as they had done before when they made love, and Kassad felt her flesh against his own, felt their blood and sweat mingling. , also heard the common beating of their hearts.
Kill it, Moneta whispered eagerly, he could even hear pain in the silent medium.
I'm doing my best, I'm doing my best.
There stood the Shrike, three meters of chrome, blades, and the pain of others.It didn't look like it was hurt.Whose blood trickles down its wrists and carapace.Its silly grinning mouth seemed to grow wider than before.
Kassad parted from Moneta's skin suit, and he gently lowered her onto a boulder, though he felt he was hurt more than she was.But this isn't her fight.Not yet.
He stepped between his lover and the Shrike.
Kassad hesitated. He heard a faint but rising rustle, as if some waves were churning on the invisible shore.He looked up, but also kept his eyes on the slow-moving Shrike, and then he realized that the sound came from a cry from a thorn tree far behind the monster.The man impaled in the tree—tiny dots of color hanging from metal spines and icy branches—was making a sound that wasn't the subconscious moan of pain that Kassad had heard earlier.That's cheers.
Kassad's attention returned to the Shrike, and the monster circled him again, and Kassad felt the pain and weakness of his almost severed heel—his right foot had been crippled. , unable to bear the weight - he hopped on one foot, spun again, resting one hand on the boulder, blocking his body between the Shrike and Moneta.
The cheers in the distance seemed to stop abruptly, as if they were breathing.
The Shrike disappeared from there suddenly, and appeared next to Kassad, looking down on Kassad, its arms already wrapped around him like a final embrace, and the spines and blades were pressed against him.Shrike's eyes sparkled.Its jaws opened again.
Kassad yelled, his voice full of anger and contempt, and he attacked.
Father Paul Duley stepped through the Pope's gate and entered the sacred forest without any mistakes.He had been in the pope's dimly lit room filled with incense, and now he was suddenly bathed in strong sunlight, surrounded by lush greenery and a lemon-yellow sky above.
He stepped out of the private teleportation gate, and the saint was waiting for him.Du Lei looked to the edge of the weir log platform five meters to his right, and beyond, there was nothing—or, to be precise, everything, the treetop world of the Sacred Grove stretched toward the horizon, the leafy roof shimmered, moved. Like a living ocean.Du Lei knew that he was at a high place in the world tree.The World Tree—that is the holiest of all trees that the saints hold sacred.
The saint who welcomed him, a figure in the complex hierarchy of the Muir Brotherhood, but now condescended to be a guide, led him from the portal platform into the vine-covered elevator and through the upper floors. On the platform, non-saints rarely have such an honor to be here.Then they came out and climbed up a flight of stairs with a balustrade of the most perfect muir wood, and spiraled up to the sky along the trunk of the tree, which rose from the base two hundred meters thick to the Here, it narrows a little bit, and is now very close to the top, only eight meters thick.The weir-wood platform was exquisitely carved, the balustrade was hand-carved with delicate arabesque trellises, and the pillars and balusters were roughly carved with gnomes, wood elves, fairies, and other elves, and Dure was now facing a table and chairs. Closer, they are also carved, and the material is the same as the circular platform.
Two people were waiting for him.The first one was exactly what Du Lei wanted to see—the loyal voice of the World Tree, the High Priest of Muir, the spokesman for the Brotherhood of Saints, Seke Haltyen.But the second person surprised Du Lei.Du Lei noticed that the red robe - the bright red color of arterial blood - was trimmed with black ermine, and that the huge Lutherian body was hidden by the robe, and his face was covered with wattle and fat. , divided into two halves by a terrifying aquiline nose, a pair of sesame eyes squeezed out of sight by a fat face, and each finger of two chubby hands bears a black or red ring.Du Lei knew that in front of him was the bishop of the Doomsday Redemption Sect—the high priest of the Shrike Church.
The saint stood up, standing in front of Du Lei with a height of almost two meters, he stretched out his hand. "Father Durley, we are very glad to have you here with us."
Du Lei held out his hand, and as he shook it, he thought how the saint's hand looked like a tree root, and the tawny fingers were so slender.The loyal voice of the world tree wore a hooded cloak, which was exactly the same as Het Masteen's outfit, and the rough yellow and green clothes formed a sharp contrast with the bishop's attire.
"Mr. Haltyen, I am very grateful that you can see me as soon as you receive the news." Duley said.The Voice of Faith was the spiritual leader of Muir's thousands of followers, but Durley knew that the Saints didn't like titles or honorifics when they talked.Du Lei nodded to the bishop. "Your Excellency, I didn't expect to be lucky enough to meet you here."
The Bishop of the Shrike Church nodded slightly. "I happened to be visiting a friend of mine. Mr. Haltiern invited me to join this conversation, thinking it might be useful. Father Durley, it is a pleasure to meet you. We have heard a great deal about your lordship for the past few years. .”
Saint pointed to a chair across from the Muir table in front of them.Du Lei just sat down, folded his hands and put them on the polished table, pretending to examine the beautiful wood texture, but actually racking his brains.Half the security force on the Web is now looking for the Shrike Bishop.His presence complicates matters far beyond what the Jesuit was prepared for.
"Interesting, isn't it?" said the bishop. "Three of the deepest religions of mankind are brought together today, isn't it?" Out of 150 billion people, the number of Catholics is less than a million. Bo-ah... The Church of Doomsday Atonement may have 5 million to 10 million. Well, Mr. Haltyn, how many saints are there? Woolen cloth?"
"Twenty-three million," Saint said softly, "There are many people who support our environmental cause and even want to join us, but the Brotherhood is not open to outsiders."
The bishop rubbed his chin.His skin was pale, his eyes were squinted, and he seemed very unaccustomed to the sun. "Zen Spiritism says they have 40 billion followers," he said in a low voice, "but what kind of religion is that, huh? There is no church. There is no priest. There is no holy book. There is no concept of sin."
Du Lei smiled. "That seems to be the belief most in tune with our time. It's been through generations."
"Bah!" The bishop's hand slammed on the table, and the metal ring hit the muir wood with a loud sound, which startled Du Lei.
"How do you know who I am?" Paul Dooley asked.
The Saint looked up, and Dure saw daylight streaming into the shadow of the hood, falling on the long line of his nose, cheeks, and chin.He didn't answer.
"We have chosen you," growled the bishop, "you, and the other pilgrims."
"You? The Shrike Church?" Du Lei asked.
Hearing that word, the bishop frowned, he didn't answer, just nodded.
"Since the overlord is already in crisis, why are there still riots?" Du Lei asked, "Why are there riots?"
The bishop rubbed his chin, the red and black gems gleamed in the twilight.Above his head, countless leaves rustled in the breeze, and the smell of rain-soaked grass and trees filled his nostrils. "The end has come, Father. Centuries ago, the prophecy given to us by the incarnation of the gods has been revealed before our eyes. Your so-called riot is the first death ordeal of this doomed society. The day of redemption is drawing near, and soon Hurry up, the Lord of Great Mourning will walk by our side."
"Master of Mourning," Du Lei repeated, "Shrike."
The saint made a persuasive gesture with one hand, as if trying to brush off the bishop's sharp tone. "Father Du Lei, we all know about your miraculous resurrection."
"That's not some miracle," said Durley, "it's the weird behavior of that parasite called Cruciform."
The long tawny fingers repeated the gesture. "Whatever you think of it, Father, we are all very happy to have you with our Brotherhood again. Please go ahead, didn't you say there was a problem when you called earlier?"
Du Lei rubbed his palms on the wood of the chair, and he glanced at the bishop in red and black sitting across from him. "You two groups have been working together for quite a while, haven't you?" Durey said. "The Brotherhood of the Saints and the Church of the Shrike."
"The Church of Doomsday Redemption." The bishop growled lowly.
Du Lei nodded. "Why? What wind brought you together?"
The loyal voice of World Tree leaned forward, and the shadow fell on his hood again. "Father, you must know that the prophecy of the Doomsday Redemption Church involves our mission in Muir. Only these prophecies can answer this question, that is—what kind of punishment must be imposed on the human beings who kill their own world."
"But it wasn't humans who destroyed Old Earth," Durey said. "It was the Kyiv team trying to create a mini black hole, and the computer made a mistake."
Saint shook his head. "It's human arrogance," he said softly, "and it's the same arrogance that has allowed our species to destroy any species that had any hope of someday developing intelligence. Senesi Aroui on Hebron Special, Zeplon of Rotating Star, Wetland Centaurs of Gadden, Gorillas of Old Land..."
"Yes," Duray said, "humans do make mistakes. But that's not enough to sentence them to death, is it?"
"The verdict is given by a god far greater than ourselves," cried the bishop, "and the prophecy is true. The day of redemption is bound to come. All who inherit the sins of Adam and Kyiv must be punished for murdering Destroyed his own homeland and destroyed other species. The Lord of Mourning breaks free from the shackles of time to execute this doomsday sentence. No one can escape the fire of his wrath. No one can be far from atonement. So is the God who is stronger than us Say."
"It is true," Saik Haltian said, "the prophecies have come... They have been spoken to generations of loyal voices... Mankind is doomed, but with their fall, the Overlords now known everywhere, pure environments will flourish again."
Father Paul Duré, trained in Jesuit logic, committed to Theia de Chardin's evolutionary theology, but now he's tempted to say who the hell cares if flowers bloom where no one can see them where no one can smell it?But he didn't say it, he said: "Have you ever thought that these prophecies are not divine revelations, but just manipulated by some secular power?"
The Saint seemed to have been slapped, and he leaned back in his chair, but the Bishop leaned forward, clenching two Lutherian fists, big enough to blow Duray's head off in one blow. "Heretics! Whoever dares to deny the truth of revelation, no matter who he is, must die!"
“有什么力量可以这么做？”世界树的忠诚之音开口道，“有什么力量，除了谬尔之神，能够占据我们的心灵？”
杜雷朝天空指了指。“好几代以来，环网的每个世界都通过技术内核的数据网连接了起来。大多数有权有势的人类携带着通信志扩展植入物，以便轻松接人……难道你没有吗，哈尔蒂恩先生？”
圣徒一声不吭，但是杜雷看见他的手指微微抖动了一下，似乎要拍拍自己的胸脯和上臂，点点上面躺了几十年的微型植入物。
“技术内核创造出了一个超凡的……智能，”杜雷说道，“他获取了惊人数量的能量，能够随意在时间中前后走动，也不再以人类的利害关系为动机。这内核人格的庞大部分的目标之一，就是消灭人类……其实，基辅小组的天大之误也许是那个实验中的人工智能处心积虑完成的。你们听到的所谓的预言，也许是机械之神在数据网中的流言蜚语之声。伯劳来这儿，也许不是为了让人类赎罪，而仅仅是为了屠杀人类的男女老少，那完全是出于这机器人格自己的目的。”
主教的大脸红得跟他的袍子一样。他挥拳痛打在桌子上，然后挣扎着站起身。圣徒抓住主教的胳膊，制止住他，把他拉回到座位中。“你从哪听到的这些话？”赛克·哈尔蒂恩问杜雷。
“从朝圣者，从接人内核的两个人。从……其他人那儿。”
主教对着杜雷晃着拳头。“可你自己也被化身触摸过了……而且不只一次，是两次。他让你拥有了不朽的生命，这样你就能亲眼看到他为他的特选子民准备了什么……那些在末日前为我们准备赎罪的人已经逼近我们了！”
“伯劳给我的是痛苦，”杜雷说，“无法想象的痛苦和苦难。我曾经两次遇到这怪物，我由衷感到，它既不神圣也不凶恶，只是来自某个可怕未来的一个有机机器罢了。”
“呸！”主教做了个轻蔑的手势，交叉起双臂，目光越过低矮的露台，无神地凝望着远处。
圣徒似乎气得直哆嗦。过了片刻，他抬起头，轻声说道：“你想问我一个问题？”
杜雷深吸了口气。“对，恐怕，这是个坏消息，巨树的忠诚之音海特·马斯蒂恩死了。”
“我们知道。”圣徒说。
杜雷吃了一惊。他无法想象他们是怎么得到这消息的。但是现在这已无关紧要。“我想知道的是，为什么他要进行这次朝圣？他没有活下来完成的任务到底是什么？我们其他人都讲述了……我们的故事。独缺海特·马斯蒂恩。但是，不知为什么，我觉得他的命运是某些谜题的关键。”
主教回头看了一眼杜雷，冷冷一笑：“我们不会告诉你任何事的，死亡宗教的牧师。”
赛克·哈尔蒂恩静静地坐了很长一段时间，最后终于应道：“马斯蒂恩先生自愿将谬尔圣道带到海伯利安。几个世纪以来，预言已经深深扎根在我们的信仰中，当乱世来临之时，巨树的忠诚之音将会受到召唤，他必须驾驶一艘巨树之舰进入神圣世界，在那目睹巨树之舰的死亡，然后让它重生，并载上赎罪与谬尔的使命。”
“那么，海特·马斯蒂恩早就知道巨树之舰'伊戈德拉希尔号'将会在轨道上被毁吗？”
“对，那已经被预言到。”
“他和船上那一只绑缚能量的尔格将会驾驶一艘新的巨树之舰？”
“对，”圣徒的声音轻得几乎听不见，“一棵化身将会给予的赎罪巨树。”
杜雷靠回到椅背上，点着头。“赎罪巨树。荆棘树。'伊戈德拉希尔号'被毁的时候，海特·马斯蒂恩的心灵已经受创。然后他被带到了光阴冢山谷，看到了伯劳的荆棘树。但是他既没有准备好，也没有办法驾驶它。荆棘树是由死亡、苦难、痛苦组成的构造物……海特·马斯蒂恩没有准备好驾驶它。或者，是他拒绝驾驶。无论如何，他逃走了。然后死了。果然不出我的所料……但是我不知道伯劳到底给了他什么命运。”
“你在胡说八道什么？”主教厉声叫道，“预言中描述过赎罪巨树。它会在化身进行最后的收割时陪伴他左右。马斯蒂恩肯定会准备好，能够驾驶它穿越时空，他肯定会感到无尚的荣幸的。”
保罗·杜雷摇摇头。
“我们已经回答了你的问题，是吗？”哈尔蒂恩问。
"yes."
“那你现在必须回答我们的，”主教说道，“圣母怎么样了？”
“什么圣母？”
“我们救世的圣母。赎罪的新娘。你们称为布劳恩·拉米亚的人。”
杜雷思绪纷飞，试图回忆起领事录制的故事概要，也就是朝圣者在去海伯利安的路上讲述的故事。布劳恩怀上了第一个济慈赛伯人的孩子。卢瑟斯的伯劳神庙把她从暴徒的手中救出，让她成为了朝圣者的一员。她在故事中提到了伯劳信徒向她致以的敬意。杜雷想要将所有这些安放在他已经得知的杂乱无章的马赛克之中。但他毫无办法。他太累……还有，他想，经过所谓的复生之后，他已经变得太蠢了。他不再是，也永远不会再是曾经的智者保罗·杜雷了。
“布劳恩昏迷了，”他说， “显然是被伯劳抓住了，并附在了某种……东西上。某种电缆。她的大脑状态跟脑死亡的人毫无二致。但是她的胎儿依旧活着，并且安然无恙。”
“她带着的人格呢？”主教问，声音显得很紧张。
杜雷回忆起赛文告诉自己的那些事，那个人格在万方网中的死亡。这两人显然不知道第二个济慈人格——赛文人格此时正在警告悦石，告诉她内核的建议极其危险。Du Lei shook his head.他累极了。 “我不知道她带入舒克隆环里的人格到底怎么样了，”他说，“电缆……伯劳附在她身上的东西……似乎插进了某种像是大脑皮层分流器的神经槽中。”
主教点点头，显然很满意这个答案。“预言进展迅捷。杜雷，你已经扮演了你的信使角色。我现在得告辞了。”这庞大之人站起身，朝世界树的忠诚之音点点头，迅速走过平台，走下阶梯，朝升降机和终端走去。
杜雷静静地坐在圣徒对面，就这么过了好几分钟。风吹树叶飒飒声，树梢平台的轻摇轻晃，这一切恰到好处地催人人眠。随着神林世界慢慢进入黄昏，头顶的天空正从精致的藏红色黑影褪变。
“你说，机械之神在好几代以来都在用错误的预言误导我们，这实在是可怕的异端邪说。”圣徒最后说。
“对，但是，赛克·哈尔蒂恩，此前鄙人所在教会的漫长历史之中，可怕的异端邪说曾多次被证明是不屈的真理。”
“如果你是圣徒，你会因为此话而送命的。”带着兜帽的人轻声说道。
杜雷叹了口气。在他这把年纪，在他这种境况，在他这种疲惫状态下，死亡的想法并没让他心生恐惧。他站起身，微微鞠了个躬。“我得告辞了，赛克·哈尔蒂恩。如果我所说的冒犯了你，那请你原谅。这是一个乱世。” “上焉者毫无信心，” 他想， “下焉者满腔是激情的狂热。”
杜雷转身走到平台边缘。他兀然停住脚步。
阶梯不见了。下面的一个平台离它有三十米的垂直距离，十五米的水平距离，但他被隔开了，而升降机正在那里等他。世界树朝下降去了一千米多，进入了多叶的深渊。杜雷和世界树的忠诚之音被孤立在了最高的平台上。杜雷走到边上的栏杆边，仰起突然挂满汗珠的脸，面对着晚风，他注意到最初的几颗星星已经从深蓝色的天空中冒了出来。“赛克·哈尔蒂恩，这是怎么回事？”
桌子旁穿着袍子戴着兜帽的身影裹在黑暗中。“十八分钟后，按标准时间计，神林世界将会落人驱逐者之手。我们的预言说星球将会被毁灭。所以，当然，它的远距传输器，超光发射仪，实际上，这世界所有东西都将不复存在。一个标准小时之后，神林的天空将会被驱逐者战舰的聚变火焰所点亮。我们的预言说所有留下来的兄弟会成员——以及其他任何人，虽然所有的霸主公民早就通过远距传输器撤离了——都将会死去。”
杜雷慢慢走回到桌子旁。 “我得马上传送到鲸逖中心，”他说，“赛文……有人在等我。我得和首席执行官悦石谈一谈。”
“不，”世界树的忠诚之音赛克·哈尔蒂恩说道，“我们等着瞧。我们来瞧瞧预言是否成真。”
耶稣会士失望地握紧双拳，他压制住自己想要殴打这位圣徒的强烈情感冲动。杜雷闭上双眼，念了两遍《万福玛利亚》。但毫无用处。
“求你了，”他说，“不管我在不在，预言一样会得到证实，或者被否认。但到时就为时晚矣。军部的火炬舰船会把奇点球炸掉的，远距传输器会失效的。我们会与环网切断联系，远隔数年。我得立即回鲸逖中心，数十亿生命仰仗我回去。”
圣徒交叉双臂，纤长的双手消失在袍子的褶皱中。 “我们等着瞧，”他说，“预言的一切都会发生的。几分钟后，大哀之君将会降临到环网内的人民头上。我不相信主教的信仰，他说寻求赎罪的人将会得到饶恕。我们在这儿好得很，杜雷神父，死亡将瞬时即至，毫无痛苦。”
杜雷搜索劳累的枯肠，希望找到什么决定性的话语，或者办法。但什么也没有。他坐在桌子旁，盯着对面这个带着兜帽的沉默之人。在他们头顶，炯炯的繁星出现了。神林的世界森林开始在晚风下最后一次飒飒作响，然后似乎预先屏住了呼吸。
保罗·杜雷闭上双眼，开始祈祷。
Notes:
Notes: