CHAPTER THE FIFTEENTH

The Most Important Person in the World

We reach at last March the Twenty-Ninth of the Year 2454. The birds of Cielo de Pájaros still teemed that morning, numberless as spirits over the rings of glass roofs which studded the mountainside’s descent toward an Ocean black and barely crusted with the gold of infant dawn. Seven days had passed since Martin Guildbreaker and Carlyle Foster had made their first approaches to the Saneer-Weeksbooth bash’. Today it was Papadelias who came with Martin, with others behind them, police uniformed in Romanovan blue, who marched with reluctant awe across the bridge which gave Bridger his name. You did not know that, did you, reader? In childhood all names were ‘-er’ for him, Stander, Looker, Aimer, Croucher, Canner, even Saneer, so, dwelling as he did beneath a bridge, Bridger. It is a name which, like all good names, means nothing. I hope you will keep calling Jehovah ‘Jed Mason,’ reader. An empty name is healthier.

Martin and Papadelias separated on arrival, each taking a squad to cover the two bash’house entrances, the Commissioner General taking Thisbe’s door in the trench below, while the Mason took the front. His hand shook as he activated the intercom.

“This is Mycroft Guildbreaker, acting for Romanova. I am here for Ockham Saneer.”

“Is the world about to end?” the master of the house called back. “If not, leave. I have eight hundred million lives to oversee.”

Martin breathed deep within his square-breasted Mason’s suit. “I’m afraid the sky is falling this time. Ockham Prospero Saneer, by order of the Universal Free Alliance I am here to place you and all members of your bash’ under arrest for murder and conspiracy.”

The twelfth O.S. did not yet open his fortress door. “I am a critical officer appointed by the Humanist government, and charged by the Alliance with the maintenance of the cars. I may not leave my post unless relieved, nor may I permit anyone to interfere with my bash’mates’ work without an order from my President.”

“I know.” At Martin’s gesture the Utopians stepped into line of sight, nine of them, somber in muted shades of ancient temples and nanolabyrinths, with a reluctant set-set riding their triceratops. “These replacements have trained on the Utopian Transit Network. My orders are to have the two most vital of your bash’mates remain here under house arrest to help them with the transition, while you and the others are conducted to Romanova.”

One did not have to see Ockham’s face to sense his frown. “Utopians are a strange choice.”

The Mason swallowed hard. “The Humanist backup facility by Salekhard was destroyed in an explosion late last night. There are two survivors of the backup crew, both in hospital.”

Even Ockham required some moments to digest that. “You realize this cannot be coincidence.”

“It was revenge,” Martin confirmed. “The perpetrators already confessed. They were the bash’ of a Brillist killed in a car crash, and attacked the Salekhard backup facility with a homemade incendiary device. If your bash’house weren’t in a major population center, they would have targeted you, too.”