Chapter 4
Daestar drove Smith to a rundown neighborhood in an outer section of Paradigm. Most of the
city's citizens avoided this part of town. Calling it "decrepit" would have been high praise.
She pulled her little black sports car into a dark alley behind a graffiti-sprayed building.
An ominously barred metal door was the sole entrance to the sagging ediface. Motioning Roger to
follow her, Ro went to the door and rapped it twice smartly. A small window slid open. Roger
couldn't hear what was said but the door quickly opened to admit them. It slammed shut with a
disturbing finality. Standing in the shadows, an older man with an eyepatch and a clipboard
greeted her, then mentioned that a new shipment of something had arrived.
The trio went through a dimly lit hallway, pushed past a hanging sheet covering the next
doorway. They emerged into a huge bright room full of people and (amazingly) books. The older
man left them, heading over to a pile of sealed boxes. Blinking in the sudden light, Roger
Smith realized that the people were in small groups, each with a leader demonstrating or
explaining something. "What is this place?" he asked.
"A school, silly," Rowan's obvious answer.
Roger's mind began to race. There was no officially sanctioned adult education in Paradigm.
People would simply remember how to do something and make that their livelihood. There was
precious little schooling even for the children of the poor. Distracted by his suspicions, he
let Rowan tug him over to a pile of books. "Look at the titles," she said.
He glanced down, saw they were mostly "How To's."
"This is my real work..." she started to say, but Roger furiously interrupted her, shouting:
"Do you mean to tell me you make your living off the backs of the poorest people in Paradigm? I
know how valuble these memories are, how expensive schooling is - you're no better than the
elite you dispise so much! How can you do this and live with yourself? No wonder you don't tell
Dastun what you do - he'd be ashamed of you!"
He turned to leave.
"Roger, wait!"
He kept walking.
"Roger Smith, you will stop and listen to me, now!"
The authoritative tone was commanding, dangerous. Despite himself, Roger Smith did indeed
stop. Hands deep in his pockets, he turned, stony-faced.
"It's not what you think, Roger Smith. None of these people are paying me, or anyone else,
to learn. All these memories, this knowledge," Ro swept her arms out, "is their legacy. Our
legacy. All I do is make it freely available. I find it. I write it. I get it printed. I pay
the teachers. I pay the rent. I am trying to give them back some control over their own lives."
She waited, perfectly still, looking at him, daring him to leave.
It took a moment for the full import of her words to sink in. The book titles had included
building home-made power generators,botanical medicine, emergency surgery, self-defense. They
were the ultimate texts on surviving outside the city, outside Paradigm's reach.
Daestar could have made a fortune selling it all to the powers that ruled, letting them
suppress it or use it for themselves. This wasn't merely dangerous stuff...it was outright
subversive. No wonder she was so secretive, thought Roger. What the hell was he getting into?
Worse, now he was really smitten.
"Rowan, are you crazy? Aren't you afraid? Paradigm Corp will never let you get away with
this."
Daestar finally smiled at him. "Oh, they need me too much, Roger, to get rid of me."
"What do you mean? I thought you weren't treating anyone anymore."
"I still have a couple of important patients but that's not why." Her crooked smile spread
to a wicked grin. "I'm their chief negotiator. How else do you think I can afford to pay for
all this?"
***
Rowan made Roger swear not to tell Dastun any of the day's revelations.
"It would make him sick with worry. Besides, the politicos would eat him alive if it came
out that he knew and didn't interfere. I can't do that to him...or to you for that matter.
Think very hard about this. Being with me may change your life for ever, and it may not be for
the better."
She handed him a card with a phone number on it. "That is my private line. Take a week to
consider all this. If you still want to see me, call. If not, no hard feelings, Lt. Smith.
It was fun."
Daestar drove Smith to a rundown neighborhood in an outer section of Paradigm. Most of the
city's citizens avoided this part of town. Calling it "decrepit" would have been high praise.
She pulled her little black sports car into a dark alley behind a graffiti-sprayed building.
An ominously barred metal door was the sole entrance to the sagging ediface. Motioning Roger to
follow her, Ro went to the door and rapped it twice smartly. A small window slid open. Roger
couldn't hear what was said but the door quickly opened to admit them. It slammed shut with a
disturbing finality. Standing in the shadows, an older man with an eyepatch and a clipboard
greeted her, then mentioned that a new shipment of something had arrived.
The trio went through a dimly lit hallway, pushed past a hanging sheet covering the next
doorway. They emerged into a huge bright room full of people and (amazingly) books. The older
man left them, heading over to a pile of sealed boxes. Blinking in the sudden light, Roger
Smith realized that the people were in small groups, each with a leader demonstrating or
explaining something. "What is this place?" he asked.
"A school, silly," Rowan's obvious answer.
Roger's mind began to race. There was no officially sanctioned adult education in Paradigm.
People would simply remember how to do something and make that their livelihood. There was
precious little schooling even for the children of the poor. Distracted by his suspicions, he
let Rowan tug him over to a pile of books. "Look at the titles," she said.
He glanced down, saw they were mostly "How To's."
"This is my real work..." she started to say, but Roger furiously interrupted her, shouting:
"Do you mean to tell me you make your living off the backs of the poorest people in Paradigm? I
know how valuble these memories are, how expensive schooling is - you're no better than the
elite you dispise so much! How can you do this and live with yourself? No wonder you don't tell
Dastun what you do - he'd be ashamed of you!"
He turned to leave.
"Roger, wait!"
He kept walking.
"Roger Smith, you will stop and listen to me, now!"
The authoritative tone was commanding, dangerous. Despite himself, Roger Smith did indeed
stop. Hands deep in his pockets, he turned, stony-faced.
"It's not what you think, Roger Smith. None of these people are paying me, or anyone else,
to learn. All these memories, this knowledge," Ro swept her arms out, "is their legacy. Our
legacy. All I do is make it freely available. I find it. I write it. I get it printed. I pay
the teachers. I pay the rent. I am trying to give them back some control over their own lives."
She waited, perfectly still, looking at him, daring him to leave.
It took a moment for the full import of her words to sink in. The book titles had included
building home-made power generators,botanical medicine, emergency surgery, self-defense. They
were the ultimate texts on surviving outside the city, outside Paradigm's reach.
Daestar could have made a fortune selling it all to the powers that ruled, letting them
suppress it or use it for themselves. This wasn't merely dangerous stuff...it was outright
subversive. No wonder she was so secretive, thought Roger. What the hell was he getting into?
Worse, now he was really smitten.
"Rowan, are you crazy? Aren't you afraid? Paradigm Corp will never let you get away with
this."
Daestar finally smiled at him. "Oh, they need me too much, Roger, to get rid of me."
"What do you mean? I thought you weren't treating anyone anymore."
"I still have a couple of important patients but that's not why." Her crooked smile spread
to a wicked grin. "I'm their chief negotiator. How else do you think I can afford to pay for
all this?"
***
Rowan made Roger swear not to tell Dastun any of the day's revelations.
"It would make him sick with worry. Besides, the politicos would eat him alive if it came
out that he knew and didn't interfere. I can't do that to him...or to you for that matter.
Think very hard about this. Being with me may change your life for ever, and it may not be for
the better."
She handed him a card with a phone number on it. "That is my private line. Take a week to
consider all this. If you still want to see me, call. If not, no hard feelings, Lt. Smith.
It was fun."