[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.After his mind-opening examination, stunned by the new vistas opened to himthrough the melange surge, D'murr Pilru had been brought here without a chanceto say his goodbyes to his twin brother or his parents.At first he had beenupset, but the requirements of Guild training rapidly filled him with so manywonders that he'd disregarded everything else.He found he could now focus histhoughts much better.and forget much more easily.The buildings of junction -- huge bulging shapes with rounded and angularextrusions -- were of standard Guild design, much like the Embassy on Ix:practical in the extreme and awe-inspiring in their immensity.Each structurebore a rounded cartouche containing the mark of infinity.Mechanicalinfrastructures were both Ixian and Richesian, installed centuries earlier andstill functioning.The Spacing Guild preferred environments that did not interfere with itsimportant work.To a Navigator, any distractions were potentially dangerous.Every Guild student learned this lesson early, as did the young candidate D'murr-- far from home and totally engrossed in his studies to the exclusion of anyworries about his former planet's troubles.On a blakgras field he was immersed in his own container of melange gas -- halfswimming and half crawling as his body continued to change, his physical systemsaltering to adapt to the bombardment of spice.Membranes had begun to connecthis toes and fingers; his body had grown longer than before and more flaccid,taking on a fish shape.No one had explained the extent of the inevitablechanges to him, and he neither chose -- nor needed -- to ask.It made nodifference.So much of the universe had been opened to him, he considered it amodest price to pay.D'murr's eyes had grown smaller, without lashes; they were also developingcataracts.He didn't need them to see anymore, though, since he had other eyes.inner vision.The panorama of the universe unfolded for him.In theprocess, he felt as if he were leaving everything else behind.and itdidn't bother him.Through the haze D'murr saw that the blakgras field was covered with neat rowsof containerized candidates and their Navigator trainers.One life percontainer.The tanks vented orange clouds of filtered melange exhaust, swirlingaround masked humanoid attendants who stood nearby, waiting to move the tankswhen told to do so.The Head Instructor, a Navigator Steersman named Grodin, floated inside a black-framed tank that had been raised high on a platform; the trainees saw him morewith their minds than with their eyes.Grodin had just returned from foldspacewith a student, whose tank was adjacent to his and connected with flexibletubing, so that their gases merged.D'murr himself had accomplished short flights on three occasions now.He wasconsidered one of the top trainees.Once he learned to travel through foldspaceby himself, he could be licensed as a Pilot, the lowest-ranking Navigator.but still vastly higher than he'd once been as a mere human.Steersman Grodin's foldspace treks were legendary quests of discovery throughincomprehensible dimensional knots.The Head Instructor's voice gurgled from aspeaker inside D'murr's tank, using higher-order language.He described a timehe had transported dinosaur-like creatures in an old-style Heighliner.Unknownto him, the monsters could stretch their necks to incredible lengths.While theHeighliner was in flight, one had chewed its way into a navigation chamber, sothat its face appeared outside Grodin's tank, peering in with a curious, wide-eyed expression.So pleasant in here, D'murr thought without forming words as he absorbed thestory.With enlarged nostrils he drew in a deep breath of the sharp, richmelange.Humans with dulled senses compared this pungent scent to strongcinnamon.but melange was so much more than that, so infinitely complex.D'murr no longer needed to concern himself with the mundane affairs of humans,so trivial were they, so limited and shortsighted: political machinations,populations milling about like ants in a disturbed hill, lives flickering brightand dull like sparks from a campfire.His former life was only a vague andfading memory, without specific names or faces.He saw images, but ignoredthem.He could never go back to what he had been.Instead of simply finishing his story about the dinosaur creature, SteersmanGrodin spoke on a tangent about the technical aspects of what the chosen studenthad just accomplished on his interstellar journey, how they had employed high-order mathematics and dimensional changes to peer into the future -- much thesame way the long-necked monster had looked into his tank."A Navigator must do more than observe," Grodin's scratchy voice said over thespeaker."A Navigator utilizes what he sees in order to guide spaceships safelythrough the void.Failure to apply certain basic principles may lead toHeighliner disasters and the loss of all lives and cargo aboard."Before any of the new adepts like D'murr could become Pilots into foldspace,they must master how to deal with crises such as partially folded space, faultyprescience, the onset of spice intolerance, malfunctioning Holtzman generators,or even deliberate sabotage.D'murr tried to envision the fates that had befallen some of his unfortunatepredecessors.Contrary to popular belief, Navigators did not themselves foldspace; the Holtzman engines did that.Navigators used their limited prescienceto choose safe paths to travel.A ship could move through the void withouttheir guidance, but that perilous guessing game invariably led to disaster.AGuild Navigator did not guarantee a safe journey -- but he vastly improved theodds.Problems still arose when unforeseen events occurred.D'murr was being trained to the limit of the Guild's knowledge.which couldnot include every eventuality.The universe and its inhabitants were in a stateof constant change.All of the old schools understood this, including the BeneGesserit and the Mentats.Survivors learned how to adjust to change, how toexpect the unexpected.At the edge of his awareness, his melange tank began to move on its suspensorfield and fell into line behind the tanks of the other students.He heard anassistant instructor reciting passages from the Spacing Guild Manual; gascirculation mechanisms hummed around him.Every detail seemed so sharp, soclear, so important.He had never felt so alive!Inhaling deeply of the orange-hued melange, he felt his concerns begin todissipate.His thoughts drew back into order, sliding smoothly into theneuropathways of his Guild-enhanced brain."D'murr.D'murr, my brother."The name swirled with the gas, like a whisper in the universe -- a name he nolonger used now that he had been assigned a Guild navnumber.Names wereassociated with individuality.Names imposed limitations and preconceptions,family connections and past histories, they imposed individuality -- theantithesis of what it meant to be a Navigator.A Guildsman merged with thecosmos and saw safe paths through the wrinkles of fate, prescient visions thatenabled him to guide matter from place to place like chesspieces in a cosmicgame."D'murr, can you hear me? D'murr?" The voice came from the speaker inside histank, but also from a great distance.He heard something familiar in thetimbre, the inflections.Could he have forgotten so much? D'murr.He'd almosterased that name from his thoughts [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]