Dune: The Butlerian Jihad (46 page)

E
arth. In a drizzle of summer rain, Vorian rode inside an exquisite white coach, drawn by four prancing white stallions. Erasmus had ordered the robot coachman to wear a uniform with broad military lapels, dripping golden ribbons and a tricorner hat taken from an ancient historical image.

The extravagance was inefficient and unnecessary— not to mention anachronistic— but the human trustee had heard that eccentric Erasmus often did inexplicable things. Vor could not imagine why such an important representative of the evermind would want to see
him
.

Perhaps Erasmus had studied some of the simulations and war games Vorian had played with Seurat. He knew that the robot had built extensive laboratories to research the questions about human nature that plagued his inquisitive mind.
But what could I possibly tell him?

As the carriage wheels clattered over cobblestones in front of the manor house, Vor wiped fog from the window. Even in the rain, the imposing Grogyptian-style villa was more magnificent than the efficient grid-organized cities. It seemed fit for a prince.

With ornamental gardens and enough tile-roofed buildings to comprise a small village, the sprawling estate covered many acres. The balcony-adorned main house featured tall fluted columns and winged gargoyles that looked down on a reception plaza as large as a town square crowded with fountains and twisted sculptures, paved gathering areas and stone-walled outbuildings.

What am I doing here?

Two liveried humans approached, averting their eyes as if Vor was a visiting machine dignitary. One man opened the door, while the other helped him step down. “Erasmus waits to see you.” The white horses pranced and fidgeted, perhaps because they received few opportunities to exercise.

One of the liveried men held a rain cover to shield Vor’s dark hair from the drizzle. Dressed in a sleeveless tunic and light trousers, he shivered. He hated being drenched, and the discomfort only reminded him of the flaws and weaknesses of his human body. If he were a cymek, he could have easily adjusted his internal temperature, and thoughtrodes could delete annoying sensual responses.
Someday
.

Inside the entry, a beautiful young woman greeted him. “Vorian Atreides?” She had exotic lavender eyes and a flashing independence in contrast to the cowed men in livery. The barest hint of a challenging smile curved her lips. “So, you are the son of the evil Agamemnon?”

Taken aback, Vor drew himself up. “My father is a revered general, first among the Titans. His military exploits are legendary.”

“Or infamous.” The woman stared at him with a shocking lack of respect.

Vor didn’t know how to react. Lower-caste humans on the Synchronized Worlds all knew their places, and she couldn’t be a trustee, like himself. No other slave had ever spoken to him in such a manner. As a reward after his numerous update missions, Vor had been granted the services of pleasure slaves, women assigned to warm his bed. He had never asked any of them their identities. “I want to know your name because I wish to remember it,” he said, at last. He found something intriguing about this exotically beautiful woman and her unexpected defiance.

She sounded as proud of her lineage as Vor was. “I am Serena Butler.” She led him along a corridor lined with statuary and paintings, then into a botanical garden shielded from the rain by a glass-paneled ceiling.

“What do you do here? Are you one of Erasmus’s . . . privileged trainees?”

“I am just a house slave, but unlike you, I don’t serve the thinking machines by choice.”

He took her comment as a badge of honor. “Yes, I serve them and proudly. I am helping to achieve the best that is possible for our flawed species.”

“By collaborating with Omnius, you are a willing traitor to your race. To the free humans, you are as evil as your machine masters. Or hasn’t that ever occurred to you before?”

Vor was baffled. The human military commander at Giedi Prime had made similar accusations. “Evil . . . in what way? Can’t you see the good that Omnius has accomplished? It’s so obvious. Simply look at the Synchronized Worlds. Every detail is seen to, everything runs smoothly. Why would anyone want to disrupt that?”

Serena gazed at him, as if trying to decide whether he truly meant what he said. Finally, she shook her head. “You are a fool, a slave who cannot see his chains. It’s not worth the effort to convince you.” Abruptly she turned away from him and marched ahead, leaving him speechless. “For all your supposed training, you simply don’t know any better.”

Before he could think of a suitable response, Vor noticed the independent robot. Garbed in opulent robes, Erasmus stood by a shallow pool, his oval face reflecting the water. Raindrops fell from an opening cut through the glass ceiling, wetting him. Classical music played a soothing melody in the background.

Without announcing Vor’s arrival, Serena left. Surprised by her rudeness, he stared after her. He admired her face and amber-brown hair, as well as her bearing and obvious intelligence. Her waist was thick, and he wondered if she was pregnant. Paradoxically, her arrogance made her more captivating, the desirability of something unattainable.

Obviously, Serena Butler had not accepted her place as a household servant. Considering the squalid lives of slaves in the unkempt pens behind the villa, what did she have to complain about? It made no sense.

“Outspoken, is she not?” said Erasmus, still standing in the rain. The robot shifted his pliable face into a congenial smile.

Standing away from the cool drizzle, Vor said, “I am surprised you tolerate her annoying attitude.”

“Attitudes can be enlightening.” Erasmus turned back to his study of the raindrops in the reflecting pool. “I find her interesting. Refreshingly honest— much as you are.” The robot took a step toward him. “I have reached an impasse in my study of human behavior because most of my subjects are drawn from docile captives who have been bred to slavery. They have never known any life but one of service and subjugation, and do not show any
spark
. They are sheep, while you, Vorian Atreides, are a wolf. And so is this Serena Butler . . . in her own way.”

The visitor bowed, swelling with pride. “I am happy to assist you in any manner, Erasmus.”

“I trust you enjoyed the coach ride? I breed the stallions and keep them groomed for important occasions. You gave me an excuse to use them.”

“It was an unusual experience,” Vor admitted. “A most . . . archaic mode of transportation.”

“Come stand here in the rain with me.” Erasmus beckoned with a synthetic hand. “It is pleasant, I assure you.”

Vor stepped forward as he was told, trying not to show discomfort. The rain quickly soaked his tunic, moistened his bare arms; water trickled from his clumped dark hair, down his forehead and into his eyes. “Yes, Erasmus. It’s . . . pleasant.”

The robot simulated a laugh. “You are lying.”

With good humor, Vor said, “It is what humans do best.”

Mercifully, the robot led them out of the rain. “Let us discuss Serena. She is attractive, according to human standards of beauty, is she not?” Vor didn’t know what to say, but Erasmus pressed him, “I watched you with her. You would like to procreate with that feral human, would you not? She is currently carrying the child of a
hrethgir
lover, but we will have plenty of time. She is unlike any simple pleasure slave you have been assigned?”

Vor pondered the questions, wondering what the robot really wanted to know. “Well, she is beautiful . . . and enticing.”

Erasmus made an artificial sound, something like a sigh. “Sadly, despite my numerous sensitive upgrades, I remain unable to experience sexual activity, at least not in the way a biological male does. I have spent centuries designing upgrades and modifications that might replicate the sensations of ecstasy that even the lowliest human can enjoy. Thus far, there has been little progress. My attempts with female slaves have been alarmingly unsuccessful.”

Strolling along in his fine clothes, Erasmus gestured for Vor to follow him through the greenhouse. As they walked down garden paths, the regal machine identified various plants by name and origin, as if he were lecturing a child or bragging about his knowledge. “Serena knows a great deal about plants herself. She was something of a horticulturist on Salusa Secundus.”

Vor made polite responses, trying to guess how he could help the robot. He wiped water from his eyes; his damp clothes felt clammy and unpleasant.

Finally Erasmus explained why he had summoned the young trustee. “Vorian Atreides, your father recently gave you a biological life-extension treatment.” The mechanical face shifted back to a smooth mirror, so as not to give Vor a clue about what he wanted. “Tell me, how do you
feel
now that you have had centuries added to your lifespan? Surely, it is a great gift from Agamemnon, as significant as his original sperm donation.”

Before Vor could consider the question, Serena entered the greenhouse carrying a silver tea set. She placed the tray with a rough clatter on a polished stone table and poured dark liquid into two cups. She handed one to Vor and one to the robot. Erasmus extruded a fibrous, feathery-tipped probe into the tea, as if tasting it. His mirrored mask shifted into an expression of supreme pleasure. “Excellent, Serena. A remarkable and interesting flavor!”

Vor did not care for the taste himself; the tea reminded him of bitter chocolate mixed with spoiled fruit juices. Serena seemed amused at his expression.

“It is good?” Erasmus asked. “Serena prepared it especially for you. I let her choose an appropriate recipe.”

“The flavor is . . . unique.”

The robot laughed. “You are lying again.”

“No, Erasmus. I am avoiding a direct response.”

Vor saw hostility in Serena’s unusual eyes as she looked at him, and he wondered if she had ruined the tea on purpose. Leaving the tray on the stone table, she departed, saying, “Maybe I should attend a trustee school to learn how to be a better simpering servant.”

Vor watched Serena, surprised that Erasmus ignored her rudeness. “It amuses me to watch her attempts at resistance, Vorian. Harmless defiance. She knows she can never escape.” During a moment of silence, the robot continued to study him. “You did not answer my question about the life extension.”

Now that he’d had time to ponder, Vor said, “Honestly, I’m not sure how I feel about it. My human body is fragile, easily damaged. Though I am still prone to accidents or sickness, at least I will not grow old and weak.” Vor thought about all the years remaining to him, like credits to spend. He would live several human lifespans, but becoming a cymek would be so much more important. “Even so, my extra years are only the blink of an eye compared to the life of a thinking machine such as yourself.”

“Yes, the blink of an eye, an involuntary human reflex I can understand physically and conceptually. You use it as an inexact metaphor to indicate a brief period of time.”

Noticing watcheye screens on the greenhouse walls, Vor realized that the evermind must be eavesdropping. “Are you always this curious?”

“Curiosity is how one learns,” Erasmus said. “I inquire because I am inquisitive. That makes sense, does it not? Enlighten me. I would like to speak with you again. You— and Serena— can give me an interesting perspective.”

Vor bowed. “As you wish, Erasmus. However, I must coordinate such visits with my important work for Omnius. Soon the
Dream Voyager
will be repaired and ready to depart on another update run.”

“Yes, we all work for Omnius.” Erasmus paused. Overhead, through the murky ceiling of the greenhouse, the rain had stopped, leaving patchy openings of blue sky. “Think more about mortality and longevity. Come and speak to me again before departing on your next voyage.”

“I will seek permission to do so, Erasmus.”

INTRIGUED BY THE fascinating interplay between the two humans, Erasmus summoned Serena again and commanded her to escort their guest back to his coach. She had been outwardly hostile to this son of Agamemnon, while he was clearly interested in her . . . physically? . . . mentally? And how could one tell the difference? Another experiment, perhaps?

Even though they had exchanged few words, Vorian found his imagination filled with this young woman. He had never met a female like her, with such self-confident beauty, intelligence, and willingness to speak her mind. Obviously Serena Butler had been raised to value herself as an individual— much as Erasmus worked hard to perfect his own independence.

Reaching the outer doorway of the villa, the young man blurted, “When is your baby due?” At the coach, the horses seemed anxious to be off. The uniformed robot driver sat like a statue.

Serena’s eyes widened with annoyance. She was about to retort that it was none of his business, but she stopped short. Perhaps Vorian Atreides was just the opportunity she had been hoping for. He had information that might help her escape, and he had the trust of the machines. It would be foolish to alienate him from the outset. If she befriended him instead, might she not be able to show him what a free human being could be?

She drew a deep breath and smiled uncertainly. “I’m not prepared to discuss my baby with a complete stranger. But maybe next time you come, we could talk. That might be a place to start.” There. She had done it.

With that, she went inside the villa and carefully shut the door behind her.

As she watched the coach from the portico of the towering villa, Serena Butler felt uncertain and confused about this deluded man who so proudly served the machines. She didn’t like him, wasn’t sure she could ever trust him. But perhaps he could be helpful.