第18节

werful,

conflicting emotions that, at times, had blotted out all other

concerns. Ever since catching sight of her perfectly formed face in

the firelight he had felt an overwhelming need to be in her presence; a

burning desire to possess her physically and in every other way; to

merge her entire existence with his.

In plain pre-Holocaust language, Steve had, quite simply, fallen

passionately in love but, unfortunately, he did not know what that

meant. A far-reaching decision by the First Family taken centuries

before Steve's birth had deleted the words 'love', 'passion' and

'desire' from the Federation's video dictionary along with a great many

other potentially disturbing word-concepts such as 'individuality' and

'freedom'. There was no place for such ideas in a nation shaped by

military discipline and empirical logic, nor was it necessary to admit

the existence of such intangible notions as those expressed by the

words 'art', 'literature', 'religion' and 'soul'.

The removal of these words from the language deprived Steve of the

means to express his true feelings.

He was stricken by the age-old fever but was powerless to describe the

symptoms. Worse still, his brief liaison with Clearwater ran contrary

to everything he had been taught. Trackers were raised from birth to

consider Mutes as sub-human. If the mere thought of touching them was

considered abhorrent, then what Steve had done was so unthinkable it

was beyond rational consideration. Yet, in the midst of this mental

confusion, one clear thought remained, piercing the fog of uncertainty

like a white-hot laser beam. Steve knew that, as a result of meeting

Clearwater, his life had changed irrevocably. From now on, she was

part of the equation; his need to be reunited with her, to possess her

totally, would be the basis of all future calculations.

Steve lay his head back against the seat and made an

effort to shut off all external sensations; the low murmur of

conversation, the monotonous hum of the shuttle, the manacles

encircling his wrists and knees, the stifling constraint of the hood.

After a while he felt himself floating away into the enveloping

darkness. He wondered where Cadillac and Mr Snow went in their periods

of stillness and thought about the voices he had heard in the past.

Could they have been the mysterious Sky Voices which Mr Snow claimed to

be in contact with? Could such things actually exist? Clearwater's

name came into his mind. He tried to conjure up a vision of her but

the image that formed in his mind's eye was of Roz. He felt her mind

reaching out to his, bridging the hundreds of miles that lay between

them. A voice that only he could hear flowed through his inner

consciousness.

A cool urgent whisper that reminded him of the wind sweeping gently

through the tops of the trees. She knew he was alive. She knew he was

coming. He must be careful. They were watching her.

CHAPTER FOUR

At Houston/Grand Central, Steve was handed over to another kid-gloved

Provo escort. Still hooded and chained, Steve was hoisted aboard a

wheelie, driven some considerable distance to another subway station

and marched onto a second shuttle - this time for a brief twenty-minute

trip. The final part of the journey, which entailed stepping on and

off a series of moving walkways and an upward ride in an elevator, left

Steve completely disorientated.

Even if he had been able to see, it would have made little

difference.

His two previous visits to Grand Central had both been brief; the

first, at the age of seven, as part of an organised group whose fixed

itinerary had taken him through the shrine of George Washington

Jefferson the 1st, and past the awe-inspiring faCade of the White

House; the second, eight months ago, when he and Roz had spent two days

wandering around the recently completed John Wayne Plaza, and the

spectacular new accommodation deeps. Neither visit had been long

enough, nor sufficiently wide-ranging to enable him to acquire a

precise mental map of the Federation's capital.

When the hood was finally removed, the only thing Steve could deduce

from his surroundings was that he was now in some kind of medical

unit.

On the edge of his field of vision he could just discern two Deputy

Provos standing behind him. He decided not to swing his body round to

look at them more directly. Defaulters were expressly forbidden to

make direct eye contact with their escorts: to do so, with any hint of

aggression or defiance, unleashed an instant massage with rubber

truncheons.

That was why the lieutenant at Pueblo had cut loose with his rifle

butt.