Monica Hughes - Devil On My Back.pdf - Monica Hughes - margozap

"WE ARE ALL FREE HERE," said the one called Swift. "You are free to stay us, Tomi, to

share our shelter and food and learn to gather food yourself, to repair and clean—"

"That's in not Lord's work," said Tomi, drawing himself up.

"—or you are free to leave. Free to be warm if you can make a fire, or to be cold if you cannot.

Free to eat if you have the skill to snare an animal, or go hungry if you cannot. Out in the forest you are

quite free."

"Would you let me starve?"

"I would not stop you if you chose to starve yourself—though I would be very unhappy. But it

would be your choice, not mine...."

DEVIL ON MY

BACK

Monica Hughes

ISBN 0-553-25567-3

Contents

1. Dreamland

2. The Revolt

3. The River

4. Rowan

5. The Knife

6. The Sharing

7. Welcome Back

8. Runaway

9. Stargazer's Story

10. ArcOne

11. Welcome Home?

12. The Dream Maker

Dreamland

Deep in the heart of ArcOne a microchip was activated. A circuit stimulated the brain of each sleeper.

The City awoke. In Apartment Ten, North Quad, Tomi Bentt opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling,

where the lights slowly strengthened to daytime intensity. What was special about today? Why did he feel

like pushing his head under the pillow and going back to sleep, even though he had had the full eight

hours of rest prescribed for his age group?

With an unpleasant flip of his stomach he remembered: Access Day. He sat up, now fully awake,

and swung his legs to the floor. In the bathroom he smeared his head and arms with depilatory cream and

stepped into the shower.

Ten minutes later, dry and oiled, his baldhead shining, his student robes in precise folds about his

shoulders, he entered the dining room. It was empty except for the family slave, who stood as mute as a

piece of furniture by the serving table.

"What's for breakfast, Seventy-Three?"

"Eggs, Young Lord, and soy toast."

That was a good omen for the day, thought Tomi. The hens had not been laying well, something

to do with the season, though how the seasons outside the Dome could affect the laying of the hens inside

was something Tomi didn't bother to understand.

He waited greedily for Seventy-Three to serve him, but when the plate of scrambled eggs and

toast was placed before him, his stomach did another flip-flop. He swallowed and put down his fork,

"Something is wrong, Young Lord?"

"No, it's just... I think I'm not hungry after all."

—Eggs contain the most perfect available protein as well as Vitamin A, calcium, riboflavin and

thiamin—A familiar voice spoke inside Tomi's head. He sighed. obediently picked up his fork and forced

himself to eat.

He was struggling with the last mouthful when Lord Bentt came quickly into the apartment. He

had the look of a man who had already completed a good day's work. Tomi marveled that he had never

seen his father other than fully clothed and on the go. No matter how quickly he responded to the

wake-up call in his brain, the Lord Bentt was ahead of him.

Tomi jumped to his feet and bowed as deeply as his fat belly would permit. "Good morning, my

Lord. I hope you slept well?"

"Excellently." Lord Bentt sat at the head of the table and nodded to the slave to serve his

breakfast. "You are up very promptly. No dreaming in the shower, eh?"

"It is Access Day, my Lord."

For an instant his father sat motionless. Then he nodded and reached for the dish of seasoning

herbs. His face was expressionless. "Ah yes. Access Day. Well, I have no concern. You will bring honor

to the House of Bentt."

"I will try, my Lord."

"You will succeed." His father glared at him from under eyebrows that slashed darkly across the

pale hairless face. Bowed beneath his weight of accessed knowledge, Lord Bentt glowered up. "You

will succeed. "

"Y... yes, my Lord. Er... may I be excused?"

His mother drifted into the room as he rose from the table. He kissed her hand dutifully. She

smiled faintly, her mind on women's things, probably the new fabric she was designing for the workers to

weave. Her shoulders too were bowed with accessed knowledge, but useless stuff, thought Tomi,

thankful he was not a woman.

He sat on the entrance bench for Seventy-Three to do up his sandals. One of the thongs had

become knotted, and as the slave stooped to disentangle it the shaggy hair parted and fell forward,

exposing for an instant the ugly puckered scar across the back of the neck.

Tomi shuddered inwardly. Thank the Dome that hadn't happened to him. His surgically implanted

socket had healed neatly with no hard scar tissue to twist or distort it.

The sandal was done up at last and Seventy-Three suddenly looked up, straight into Tomi's eyes.

It gave him a shock, looking straight into the eyes of a slave. They were as human as his and quite young.

He wondered who Seventy-Three had been before the implant failure had led to a slave's life.

"Good luck, Young Lord." Seventy-Three squeezed Tomi's foot, an unexpected, almost a

scandalous gesture.

Good luck. As Tomi walked towards the main corridor that led to Center and South Quad he

thought about luck. Was luck all that separated him from Seventy-Three? That made Tomi the honored

only son of Lord and Lady Bentt and Seventy-Three a nameless slave? No, it must be more than that.

Not just luck...

At the classroom door he met the other nine. They smiled weakly at each other. Even jovial

Farfat didn't have a joke for the occasion. They stood in uneasy silence until the bowed figure of their

tutor, Lord Vale, shuffled along the passage to the classroom.

"Ah!" he peered up, seeming surprised to see them. For the past seven years he had seemed

surprised to see them. "There you are, boys. Bright and early, eh? Eager for the experience, ha, ha!

Come in, then. Come in."

They made themselves comfortable on their couches, each with its familiar terminal. Tomi glanced

across at his friends: Grog, Denn, Farfat, and Matt. Each of them looked as pale as he felt. The five of us

must have a celebration when today's over, he told himself firmly, and tried to concentrate on what Lord

Vale was saying.

"For seven years, Young Lords, since you first came to me with your access sockets empty, I

have instructed you. You are now fourteen years of age and today will begin to become scholars. For

seven years you have worn only your lifepak and have accessed one at a time some of the infopaks that

will become a part of you. You have acquired some knowledge over these years: a week with a

mathpak, a week with ancient history, a week with science. Now we have reached the most important

day in your young lives: Access Day. Why is it called that... Grog?"

"Because today we gain access to all knowledge, my Lord," Grog burst out eagerly.

Lord Vale's face creased in a thin smile. "Today you begin to access all knowledge," he

corrected. "You will begin by accessing and interfacing mathematics, physics, City history and English

literature. Upon your ability to handle this information, to interface freely and to make linkages within your

own brains..." He turned to show them the mighty weight of paks that lay upon his neck. "Upon your

ability depends your future access to engineering, ancient history, philosophy. Only then will you become

a full member of the Lordship of the City, freely interfacing with the entire knowledge of the human race."

Tomi rubbed his hands down the folds of his gown. His stomach heaved and he swallowed and

wished he had left his breakfast uneaten in spite of the command of his lifepak. Lord Vale's voice droned

on. He couldn't pay attention. His mind was jumping all over the place. His skin crawled and his palms

were sticky again.

"... a tranquil mind," Lord Vale was saying. "You have practiced these exercises daily for the last

seven years. We will go through them once more. Relax... breathe in slowly... three... four. Hold it. Now

out slowly... slowly... ten... eleven... twelve..."

From Farfat s couch came a winded gasp. Lord Vale looked up with a frown. "And again."

Tomi felt the fear drop from him. The knot in his stomach dissolved. His head became clear, his

brain and will focused. It has nothing to do with luck, he told himself again.

He jumped as Lord Vales dry hand lightly touched the nape of his neck. "Stay relaxed. That's

right. Good."

He felt pressure on his socket and the sudden weight of additional paks. The tension at the graft

was unbearable. He gasped, managed a slow deep breath. Suddenly it was bearable. Three paks. Four.

Another breath.

"Very good, Tomi. Relax. Make no attempt at access until I tell you."

His heart pounding furiously, Tomi lay on his side against the contoured cushions of his couch to

ease the unaccustomed weight off his neck. Through half-closed eyes he could see Lord Vale move

slowly around the room. Jay. Matt. Now he had reached Grog's couch. Good old Grog. Relax, you'll be

all right.

It seemed to be taking Lord Vale a very long time. What was wrong?

An animal wail cut the tense silence. "I can't. I can't. Oh, it hurts. Stop it. Take them away..." The

voice rose from a wail to a scream. A horrible noise. Revolting. Couldn't Lord Vale get Grog to stop?

"Security." Lord Vale's voice was a dry whisper. Within twenty seconds the door was flung open

and two men in the scarlet uniforms of soldiers marched in, their TV monitors strapped to their

foreheads. Three-eyes, the Young lords irreverently called them. Now Tomi was thankful for the quiet

efficiency with which they removed the screaming Grog.

"But I don't want to be a slave. Don't make me... its not fair..." The closing door cut off his

screams like a knife.

In the sudden silence Tomi shuddered. Poor Grog! Bad luck. Or bad learning? To be turned into

a nameless unfamilied slave for the rest of his miserable life, all memory of accessed knowledge and of

being a Lord wiped out. To be a number...

Yet mixed with the horror was a warm glow that made Tomi more sure of himself than ever

before: It didn't happen to me. I'm all right! I'm going to make it!

Lord Vale moved, stoop shouldered, to the front of the class. His face was smooth, schooled

through fifty years of lordly discipline. "Relax. Breathe in slowly. One... two... three..." The voice droned

on. Tomi was almost asleep when Lord Vale once more moved between the couches fitting infopaks into

the sockets of the remaining students.

He finished and lightly clapped his hands. Tomi's eyes flew open. Farfat was grinning at him and

he smiled weakly back. Good old Farfat. Not a gram of imagination in him.

"Are you ready, Young Lords? We will begin to access slowly, to accustom your nervous

systems to the sudden high input of signals." He turned to his desk and tapped a command into the

terminal. "Be ready to watch your screens and respond. Do not hurry. The master computer will give you

access at the rate you demand and no faster. Do not be afraid to take your time. The City wasn't built in

a day!"

They tittered dutifully at the old joke.

"Switch on your terminals, identify yourselves and begin."

Tomi tapped his identicode into the terminal. A question flashed onto the screen. "Give the value

of pi to twenty places."

Twenty places? I don't know that! He took a shaky breath. Take your time, Lord Vale had said.

He reached out to the keyboard and began to tap out the answer. 3.14159265358979323846. I

knew it. I knew it! He waited for the next question.

"When was Mores Utopia first published?"

"1516." It was amazing. There was no sense of searching his memory. Whatever he wanted was

there, accessible. Knowledge is power, a voice spoke inside his head. Where did it come from? His new

paks? Or was it something he had found out for himself? He leaned forward eagerly towards the console.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a sudden flashing movement and turned in amazement to see

Farfat, at the end of the row, crouched over his terminal, his hand moving faster than human hand could

possibly move.

At the same instant Lord Vale moved swiftly from his desk. Before he could reach him Farfat

was on his feet, his hands to his head. "I am Farfat. Far... far... It is a far far better thing that I do than I

have... far... the extent of the universe is fifty billion light years... whereas Newton's law expresses..."

Lord Vale reached Farfat, but was fought by hands clawing frantically at the old Lord's scraggy

neck. Tomi leapt from his couch and ran to help. He couldn't believe the strength of Farfat, his eyes mad,

howling like a dog.

"Denn, help!"

The two boys struggled to hold Farfat's wrists down while Lord Vale wrenched the infopaks

from their socket at the back of his neck. Tomi saw his friend's eyes roll up into his head. He sagged

forward into their arms as the soldiers again rushed in.

Tomi and Denn saw the limp body of their friend dragged from the room. The other six students

lay rigidly on their couches, their eyes fixed on their screens, pretending not to notice the disgusting event.

"Thank you, boys. Continue with your work." Lord Vales voice was calm.

Tomi's mouth fell open. "But..."

"Continue, Young Lords." There was a harsh warning behind the quiet command. Obediently

Tomi went back to his console. Problems flashed to the screen and his fingers automatically answered

them; but all he really saw was the mad glare in Farfat s eyes, all he heard was the demented howl of

poor Grog.

I can't concentrate, he thought in panic and fumbled an answer. I can't... Could they throw me

out now? Could I be programmed into a slave like Grog or a worker like Farfat?

His hands shook and he pressed the palms together and tried to breathe deeply, to think calmly,

praying that the Lord Tutor would not notice him.

Lord Vale clapped his hands and at the sharp sound a chill of fear ran down Tomi s spine. But

their tutor was actually smiling. "Well done, Young Lords. That will be sufficient for today. I will see you

at the same time tomorrow. If you have any trouble within the next day let me know at once."

As they rose obediently to their feet he said quietly, "Denn, Tomi. One moment if you please."

Again the shiver of fear down the spine.

"Sit, Young Lords."

As Tomi settled on his couch he found himself staring straight into Lord Vale's eyes. They were a

pale blue, with a sorrow in them from which Tomi turned his own eyes away.

"I believe you Young Lords were close friends of both Grog and Farfat. You must be feeling sad

and bewildered and perhaps even angry at their failure."

Tomi's head jerked up. Did Lord Vale know everything? Perhaps that was the reason for the

sadness in his eyes... but that couldn't be right. Knowledge was power and power was splendid!

"Why do we access this way if it is so easy to fail?" He blurted out. "Is it only luck that separates

us Lords from soldiers or workers or even slaves? I don't understand anything." He stopped, close to

tears.

Lord Vale smiled a faint humorless smile. "That is the first step on the path to true learning. Grog

dreamed of gaining access to all knowledge. He was wrong, wrong! What I can teach you is only the

beginning. You ask if it is all luck? Perhaps it is. All life is luck if you look at it one way. It is luck that

your ancestors were part of the ArcOne team during the Disaster. It is luck that your forefathers lived

safely underground through the Age of Confusion. It is luck that you were born as sons of Lords. It is all

luck. Now ask yourself: is that a useful thing to know?"

"But why must we access this way?" Tomi cut into the gentle flow of words and then blushed for

his rudeness. "I am sorry, my Lord. But surely there must be other ways of learning?"

"Of course. In the bad old days you would have sat for seven or eight hours a day for twelve

years on a hard chair, while a teacher tried to implant knowledge out of books into your heads. It was an

inefficient system and the knowledge acquired was spotty and incomplete. There is too much to learn and

man no longer has the memory to retain it without help."

"What is 'memory'?"

"Memory is the ability to recall material stored in the brain without computer help. In the ancient

days man was skilled at memorizing, but even before the Disaster it was a dying art. The result was

ignorant specialists: scientists who made decisions about the future of mankind without knowledge of his

previous history. Well, you know where that has brought us." He shrugged his bent shoulders. "To the

Age of Confusion."

"So we must learn to access the computer directly?"

"The computer is your memory and mine. With every pak you access you become closer to the

ideal of a perfect thinking being, with a balanced knowledge of history and engineering, science and

philosophy. It is the only way to restore Mankind to its proper place and begin to set the world aright."

"Are we going to do that?"

"My goodness, no!" Lord Vale was horrified. "Even your learned father, my dear Tomi, has not

achieved perfect access. There is always more to learn. But with each generation we come a little closer

to being the perfect man who will be fit to inherit the Earth."

"But..." Tomi struggled with new thoughts. "Aren't the scientists and engineers and philosophers

discovering new things all the time?"

"Stupid," hissed Denn. "That's what ArcOne's for. Isn't it, Lord Vale?"

"Correct. But you should not call your fellow student stupid."

Tomi wasn't paying attention. "Doesn't each Lord share his new knowledge with the computer

and so with every other Lord?"

"Of course."

"Then each generation is going to have more and more to access. I don't see how we can ever

catch up and be perfect enough to go Outside again."

Lord Vale nodded approvingly. "Good. You have hit upon an important concern. A dozen Lords

are working on the problems of whether Learning is a finite or an infinite series."

Tomi's brain automatically accessed Math and Philosophy and grasped Lord Vale's meaning.

"But if Learning is an infinite series we're never going to catch up and all the time we've spent in ArcOne

will be a waste... my Lord," he added politely.

Monica Hughes - Devil On My Back.pdf

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