Coid Time

Below on this page are parts 4 and 5 of the science fiction story "Hierion Writers Club". Previously, the struggle for control of Eternity had begun. Grean the Kac'hin was now at work trying to convince the residents of Nanoville to shift their support away from the positronic robots of Earth.

What could Grean offer to residents of Nanoville such as Yira and Pols? Although it had been the positronic robots who first developed time travel, the Huaoshy were fast learners and with their technological superiority in sedronics, they had developed sophisticated Reality Viewing technology.

Grean (image credits)

Now, Grean had access to that amazing Huaoshy technology and she could see two Realities into the future. With that ability to View possible futures and her own powerful telepathic abilities, Grean could first identify the deepest desires and hopes of someone like Yira and then make those dreams come true. 

However, Grean always took a long view of human history and even her projects in Eternity, so it would sometimes be centuries before she got around to making some dreams come true.

  ⎯ Hierion Writers Club ؄

 

4. View the Future. (read parts 1 and 2) (part 3)

Grean activated a display device and gestured towards the moving image of Yira who was at work, writing. Grean said, "This is a recording: the future as it once was, at a point in the 20th century. Of course, the future has been changed now that I have moved you through time in order to show you this."

 

Yira and Pols were watching the video recording, curious about what Grean wanted them to see.

The Yira of the future was inside her office, the special space reserved for the Director of the Writers Block. In the video, the Yira of this alternate future looked up from her work, startled by the sudden appearance of Grean who had just arrived by teleportation. Quickly recovering her equilibrium, Yira said, "Thank you for responding to my request."

Grean nodded curtly. "I'm intrigued by your idea."

Mari (right) on Earth

Yira gestured towards an image displayed on the screen of her workstation. "I'm intrigued by the fact that her first name is 'Mari' and she looks like my cousin, Edith, who emigrated to America."

Grean confirmed the genetic connection, "Yes, Mari is descended from both your grandmother Elizabeth and your favorite author, Charlotte Burke." Grean waved her hand and a chart of the family tree appeared on the display screen of Yira's workstation.

 

"Amazing!" Yira briefly looked at the chart which showed two branching family trees that came together at the bottom and showed Mari's telepathic ancestors. "It is almost as if someone was selectively breeding..."

 

"Yes, the positronic robots were actively developing the needed gene patterns to support creation of powerful human telepaths." Grean waved a hand as if to dismiss that matter from further discussion. "You have taken an interest in Mari's writing ability?"

 

"What attracts my interest are the topics that she chooses to write about. Her first published story provided a detailed account of telepathic positronic robots!" Mary added, "The events of the story take place on a distant exoplanet, but it is clear that she has a source of information about probots." 

"You are correct. There is a nanoscopic replicoid of Mari in Nanoville who has sent story ideas to Mari by way of the Bimanoid Interface."

Mary expressed her surprise by jumping to her feet. "You want to tell the Earthlings about the existence of positronic robots?"

Wendy the probot

Yes, I have decided to do so, now that robots are finally being built on Earth. Also, there is still at least one probot on Earth, working with Nyrtia and resisting my efforts to attain complete control of Earth's future. I've tolerated that foolishness, so far, because I hoped it might allow me to find Nyrtia's secret base of operations. However, I am loosing my patience and so... well you tell me... do you think the stories written by Mari will help put some pressure on Fengtol?"

"Fengtol? You mean Wendy?"

"Fengtol is the copy of Wendy who is stirring up trouble on Earth."

Yira mused, "So, positronic robots can be duplicated. I had wondered..."

"Yes, there is nothing that prevents me from making copies of probots. In the case of Fengtol, I had need for both a copy on Earth and another copy here in the Hierion Domain, so..." Grean shrugged.

Mary knew Wendy quite well, but it was surprising to learn about the existence of a duplicate copy of Wendy who lived on Earth. "Well, I suppose you don't want to hear my idea... it will surely conflict with your plans."

"Go ahead and tell me." Grean smiled and showed her fangs. "My plans are always flexible."

"Since you already have a replicoid copy of Mari in Nanoville, I guess my idea is useless. I was going to suggest bringing a copy of Mari here, to the Block."

Grean was making use of the great computational facilities that were available to her in the Sedronic Domain. She could see that there was an odd vortex of temporal momentum that linked Mari to another Earthling. Grean carefully focused in on that high-energy knot in time. 

 

the Sedronic Domain

The other person so intimately linked to Mari was also a writer. His name was Isaac Asimov and he specialized in scientific topics and technical writing. Immediately it became apparent that either Mari could serve as the first Earthling to write stories about probots or that task could be shifted over into Isaac's competent hands. Grean told Yira, "Let's go ahead and try it your way. This will open up an entirely new and promising path into the future..."

The video recording halted with the images of Yira and Grean frozen in place on the display screen. Grean told Pols, "So, I simply sent you back in time and shifted course of events in Nanoville over into the timeline that you remember, in which you met Yira in the 19th century."

Yira was trying to think logically about time travel and alternate Realities. Pointing at the video display, she asked, "So, that future you just showed us, that conversation between you and I... it will not happen?"

"That is correct. We have changed the flow of time! I am now creating an alternate Reality that will depend on Isaac Asimov becoming a time traveler. He will help me remove Fengtol from Earth ten years earlier. And why not? I now know that Nyrtia has slipped herself into some deep hole where she can evade me.... some hidden place that Fengtol knows nothing about."

Pols told Yira, "What Grean has not told you, Yira, is that I am Mari."

Yira stepped closer to the display screen. Looking past the shoulder of her future self, there on the workstation's display was an image of Mari. That image of Mari was small, but she did look like Pols. "I've been wondering about your name. The tradition is to reverse the letters of a person's name in order to make a new name for their replicoid. I could not imagine an Earth woman named 'Slop'!"

Pols explained, "When I joined the free love movement in San Francisco, I started associating with members of the back-to-the-land movement. Eventually I moved to a farm in Oregon where I adopted the name Pols."

Observer Base

Yira asked Grean, "So what now? What was gained by having me meet Pols now rather than 200 years in my future?"

Grean shrugged. "Please respect the fact that I am limited in what I can tell you two about your future in this new Reality. We are constrained by looming Time Paradoxes. However, the basic idea is that I intend to make use of Pols here in this time, during the 19th century, to help deal with the resistance movement that Nyrtia has organized in Nanoville. Pols will learn a great deal about probots and then by the time we reach the 20th century she will be able to help inform Earthlings about positronics."

Pols laughed. "Grean, what makes you think that I'm disposed to help you any more than I helped Wendy and the other probots?"

Grean placed a hand on the girl's arm, "You'll find that my goals for Earth are a close match to your hopes and dreams for the future. I've prepared a special place for you near Observer Base. In a month or so I'll drop by your farm and we will be able to make plans for your propaganda operation in Nanoville." Grean shifted her hand away from Pols and at that instant Yira was teleported to the Writers Block and Pols found herself standing in a field of tall grass which moved slightly as it was stirred by a gentle breeze.

Feeling slightly disoriented by the teleportation event, Pols slowly turned and looked at her new surroundings. A two-story farm house was visible in the distance, perched an a ledge above a sparkling pond. About half of the surrounding countryside was forested and the other half looked like pasture land. Some grazing deer could be seen in the distance. Walking towards the house, Pols noticed a pair of water wheels being turned by a brook that ran to one side of the house. The water of the brook fed the pond where occasionally a fish could be seen breaking the surface. There were small insects floating in the air and birds singing in the trees. Pols liked what she saw, except for the fact that the sky seemed artificial: apparently it was a vast dome made to look like Earth's sky.

 

Above the sound of the running water, Pols could hear a persistent and periodic clonking sound. Walking past the house, Pols found a sweating man, his bare chest glistening in the sun, at work chopping wood with an ax. He looked up from his work and said, "Hoy! A vision!"

Pols giggled. "You are not hallucinating. I just got teleported in from Nanoville."

"You are from the land of the little people?" He briefly let his eyes linger on Pols' painted breasts then gazed intently into her eyes. "You look like a big graceful dancer."

To make sure that he was real, Pols approached the man and placed a hand on one of his bulging biceps. "I'm Pols." She looked away from his muscular body and into his eyes. "What is your name?"

The man reluctantly turned his gaze away from Pols' pretty face. He looked around the meadow and wiped sweat from his brow. "I don't think I have a name... yet." He hesitated and grinned. "At least, I'm not sure that I am supposed to know that... yet."

"What does that mean? Either you do or you-" She fell silent. He was shaking his head.

He explained, "Grean warned me about the dangers of Temporal Paradoxes." He looked down at this feet and mumbled, "I saw something in the house that maybe I should not have seen..."

Pols was trying to spot some imperfection in him. "You are absolutely gorgeous. Exactly how I might imagine a..." She fell silent. "Are you a robot?"

"Maybe so. My memories go back only a few days... maybe a week... the past is rather fuzzy. I know that I was expected to plant the gardens..." He gestured towards several patches of newly turned earth, "...and I must prepare the house..." He gestured towards the farmhouse, "...and wait for the owner to arrive." He looked into her eyes and asked, "Are you the owner?"

Pols shrugged. "I suppose that must be Grean's plan. This homestead looks like my fantasy imaginings of the perfect place to live and farm. The farm, the house, even you must have been designed and made just for me." She gestured with her arm to their surrounding, "Everything here must be Grean's bribe... a precious gift that will bend me to her will and make me do her bidding."

The man began loading up the freshly split firewood. "Let's go inside. Tell me, Pols, what would you like for dinner?"

Pols laughed. "You even cock, er... cook?" She picked up some of the wood and they went and added to a tall stack of chopped wood that was stored under a shed-like lean-two. 

 

That chore complete, they then went inside the house which had been built from carefully cut logs yet somehow had a satisfying mixture of modern conveniences mingled with old-fashioned furnishings. Pols asked, "Would you mind if I call you 'Adam'?"

He was lighting a fire in the fireplace, but he turned with a grin on his face. "As in 'Adam and Eve'?"

She wondered where they were... surely this was not Earth, but rather some artificial environment, apparently inside the Hierion Domain. "Are there others in the neighborhood? Here in this place, I feel like we are the only two people in the world."

With the fire now burning bright, he approached Pols and they sat together on the sofa that faced the fireplace. "This is an artificial settlement, created long ago by the pek. In ancient times, Neanderthals used to live here, after they were brought from Earth."

"Who are you, Adam? Where did you come from?"

artificial life

"Grean crafted me. I believe you are the owner and that this farm was made for you. Grean told me to do everything that I can to assist you and allow you to do your work."

 

"Work?" She reached out and rested her hand on his muscular arm. "I thought you were going to do the work around here."

 

"I enjoy manual labor. I have the suspicion that Grean has other plans for you. There is a room upstairs that is full of books and a computerized workstation."

 

Pols jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs. She found the office with its large writing desk that had a view out over the sparkling blue pond. "This looks like a great place to work, but I can't imagine what Grean expects me to do. All she mentioned was creating propaganda..."

Adam switched on the electronic equipment and a message was there on the display screen:

Dear Mari or Pols or Eve or whatever you decide to call yourself- I'd like you to take some time to relax and settle into your new home. However, if you become bored, know that you are on the outskirts of Observer Base, so you can go into town anytime you like. Also, Yira is not much further away... although it is not as easy to get to her. I don't want just anyone wondering into the Writers Block, but you are welcome there, anytime. 

The fundamental problem that we face is the large number of people in Nanoville who have given up on Earth. I believe that by applying your creativity and your writing skills, you can convince some of them to return to productive lives. I'll visit you in a few weeks and get you started on that project. Until then, relax, explore and make use of Adam, your robotic assistant.

Pols looked at Adam who apparently already knew the contents of this message from Grean. "She knew that I would name you Adam."

He nodded. "Grean often travels through time and is always Viewing the future." He took hold of her hand, "Let me show you one more..." Adam led Pols down the hallway to a comfortable bedroom.

 

5. Block Chain. 

Mary was walking hurriedly through the communal area of the Block. Many of the resident writers were gathered there, relaxing, drinking, eating and speaking to their friends. Several of them waved to Mary as she passed. Châtella called out, "Would you like a table, Mary?" Mary waved the robot off, but she glanced over at the table where she had first sat and been served by Châtella... back when Mary had been using the name Yira...

___________

Yira had first arrived inside the Writers Block, feeling somewhat dizzy from the teleportation event that brought her there. She settled into a chair next to one of the small tables that was scattered across the courtyard of the central plaza. Almost immediately, a servant girl arrived and asked, "May I bring you a drink? Some food?" The girl did not pause to let Yira reply. "It has been so quiet here. I'm so happy that you arrived, my Lady! I will be most pleased to serve you in any way that I can. All you need do is-"

Yira interrupted and asked, "Who are you?"

"Wendy called me Châtella. I ask you, my Lady, is that a sensible name?" Châtella threw her arms out from her sides and shrugged. "Wendy is such a mysterious mistress! She issues orders right and left, but I suspect she is also a robot. Now tell me; should a robot be so pushy? Oh! You must be Yira... Wendy told me to expect your arrival. Maybe Wendy has her reasons for being mysterious and bossy, but-"

Yira held up a hand in order to deflect Châtella's river of prattle. "You may bring me a cup of tea. Some good, British tea." The tea was soon served, although Yira had to explain to the robot how to properly provide a traditional 19th century British tea service.

________________

Hierion Domain

Now Mary was moving down the stairs that led to the Director's Office. For a moment she reflected on how she had abandoned the name 'Yira' when she had vowed to be rid of anything linked to the positronic robots.

Asimov was already there in the office, waiting for her. And he was sitting in the Director's chair. Mary reached across the broad desk and said, "Dr. Asimov, I presume?" The images she had seen were of a much older man. Apparently Asimov had quickly adopted a younger body form upon reaching the Hierion Domain.

He stood up and put out his arm. They shook hands. He waited for her to be seated then he sat down again. "Grean told me some amusing stories about you Mary... and of course, I can't help thinking about the Mary I know, the famous writer from Earth's history."

It was many years since Mary had thought about that other Mary, so long in her grave. "You are familiar with her writing?"

Isaac shrugged, "Not very. I've never had much interest in fantasy stories. My specialty area is science fiction. However, I'm fascinated by the flow of history, so I do know something about your namesake."

"She was as scientific as one might expect for the 19th century."

"I suppose so... too bad she could not have lived in the 20th, in the age of atomic energy and rocketry... but then I forget... here you are... a copy of Mary in the 20th century." He was carefully exploring Mary's body with his eyes. "And you are hundreds of years old... no wonder you know so much about physics."

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Mary sighed. "Don't forget, Mr. Asimov, in addition to my creaking old age, I've also benefited from contact with technologically advanced aliens."

Asimov had recently had his own contact with Grean. "Tell me, in all the time that you've known her, have grown accustomed to Grean's alien features?"

Mary shook her head. "Not really. I seldom have dealings with Grean... maybe once every ten years."

 

Asimov pointed to some stacked documents on the desk. "I did some reading of your files. It seems that you keep yourself quite busy."

 

Mary explained, "I've become fascinated by Hierion Physics and I find that there are not enough hours in the day to keep up with all of the writing projects now going on." She tapped the stack of reports. "So... I'm very glad you are here and can take over as Director."

Asimov grimaced. "I must say, I'm skeptical about Grean's idea that I should take on the role of Editor and Chief around here."

"Your new title is Director." She explained, "I've never actually edited. I leave the writing up to the others. Your task will be keeping the writers happy. Some people don't adjust very well to the Hierion Domain."

"I'm worried about that myself." Asimov told Mary, "During the past few years, I've become comfortable doing exactly as I please. I've enjoyed my retirement. I doubt if I'll enjoy getting swept up in an avalanche of work."

Mary tried to judge if Isaac was serious. "I agree with Grean. You are the perfect choice to be Director of the Writers Block. I believe that you edited Astounding magazine for nearly three decades, in your role as Campbell. More importantly, you mentored and developed many writers... including your younger self. You should be able to apply all that experience to the on-going work here in the Block."

Isaac nodded, but he was still uncertain about his future and what life would be like in the Hierion Domain. "Well, sometimes there are problems when a change of leadership takes place." Isaac asked, "Who was Director before you?"

Mary admitted, "You will be only the second Director, ever. I've been in charge here since the very beginning, over 200 years ago."

"Will the writers accept me as their new leader?"

"I suppose Grean would never have selected you for the job if there were going to be a problem." She grinned knowingly. "Grean is always looking into the future."

Isaac chuckled. "Does Grean ever tell you about the future?" He smiled and pointed at himself. "What did she tell you about me?"

She hesitated to reply. "It is difficult to say exactly how much I have learned from Grean. She can use infites to put ideas into our heads and Grean is careful to not give us cause to resent her... guidance. I suspect that whenever Grean wants me to know something, Wendy delivers a new set of infites. Then, Poof! Suddenly I know."

Isaac thought back to the time, decades previously, when Grean had talked him into becoming her agent on Earth. "She has many tricks up her sleeve, but do you have any reason to doubt that she wants what is best for Earth?"

Mary shook her head. "No, I'm a Kac'hin loyalist. In fact, there has not been much resistance to Grean since..." She thought back to the old struggle between R. Nyrtia and Grean for control of Nanoville...

________________

Nyrtia

Yira had been living in the Writers Block for twenty days and had brought her first half dozen recruits into the Block. Each day there were meetings and planning sessions for how to insert helpful information about future technologies into the consciousness of the Earthlings who were telepathically linked to Yira's writers.

Yira shook her head in wonder. Already she thought of the people on Earth, including her copy, Mary, as Earthlings. She checked the time. Yira was expecting the arrival of Nira, the replicoid of Charlotte Waring. They had an appointment to discuss story ideas. Mary saw feet and then legs on the stairs. Then she realized that the  person arriving in the office was Pols. Yira jumped to her feet and went around the desk. 

 

Pols said, "Mary!" They hugged and then Yira saw a second set of feet on the stairs.

Pols told Mary, "I brought along a friend. Is it alright..."

Mary nodded. "Yes, bring him down."

Pols introduced Adam to Yira and then they all sat down. 

 

Yira looked back and forth between Pols and Adam and asked, "What have you been..."

Pols giggled and took hold of Adam's hand, "Yes, Adam and I are lovers. But more importantly, he is helping with my work. Grean tasked me with educating the folks in Nanoville."

the nanorealm

Yira had brought several of her writers in from Nanoville, each of them had been very happy to escape from the nanorealm. However, several potential "recruits" had refused to leave Nanoville. Mary sighed. "You know, Pols, I was only there for one day. I don't really understand the nanorealm."

"I was there for a month. The problem is, I can't go back. However, Adam has a 'little' trick..." Yira looked at Adam and imagined the tricks he was playing with Pols in their bed. Pols continued, "He has a duplicate copy in the nanorealm.. our agent in Nanoville. I've now started sending my... propaganda... into Nanoville."

"How interesting!" Yira could well imagine how she might benefit from an information channel into Nanoville. "There are several good writers there who I would like to entice into joining me here in the Block. However, Grean had given me no means to contact them. Grean only brings residents of Nanoville here after they have become unhappy living in the nanorealm."

Pols suggested, "Maybe Adam's copy in Nanoville can reach out to those writers... let them know how much better things are here..."

 

Yira again looked at Adam. "I can see that you are happy with your new life, Pols. Where are you living?"

 

"We have a place close to the city in Observer Base. You should come for a visit."

 

Yira could understand how Grean had enticed Pols with this golden boy, Adam. She wondered: but how can I attract writers from Nanoville? She told Pols, "We have a few cute servant robots here, but I can't provide my writers with..."

 

Pols giggled. "Relax, Mary, you don't need sexbots. Writers like to pair off with other writers. What you should do is this... you should more clearly distinguish yourself from the probots. For example, drop the silly name Yira."

Yira asked, "What would you suggest as a better name?"

"There is nothing wrong with Mary. Just go back to using your original name."

__________________________________________

And so it had been. She'd gone back to being Mary and with the help of Pols and Adam many more writers had come to the Writers Block from Nanoville. And with time, the influence of R. Nyrtia in the nanorealm had faded away.

It still bothered Mary that she had no direct contact with anyone in Nanoville. She often wondered how civilization had progressed in the nanorealm. And she had not visited Pols and Adam at their farm since... how long? She could not recall. Maybe five years had passed since her last social call at the farm.

Isaac was there beside Mary, with his hand on her shoulder. "I thought you might be having an absence seizure."

She laughed and also stood up. "I'm back. You triggered an old memory. Come, let me show you around the Block."

They spent most of an hour going from table to table in the commons, with Mary introducing Isaac to the writers.  He knew most of them by their reputations and could almost always speak knowledgeably about something that their duplicate on Earth had written. Mary surveyed the tables and decided that they had spoken to everyone present. He asked, "Where will I be living?"

That was a challenging question that Grean had simple laughed off. Mary said, "I want to show you one of your options." She led Isaac away from the Writers Block and through the secret passageway that led to Observer Base. After showing him the city, sparkling in the distance, Mary took him to the farm where Pols lived with Adam and their rather large family. Mary still did not understand how replicoids could have children. Pols claimed not to know either, but she and Adam had been good at it. Now surrounding their house was a small village populated mostly by their descendants.

Mary told Isaac, "There are many little places like this, quite a wide variety of special places where you could live. You should look around Eternity and consider all of your options."

Isaac asked with dismay, "And each day I would have to go through that crazy stairway to get to the Writers Block?"

Mary shrugged. "You may find it useful to keep some distance from the writers. Grean warned me that you still like to write yourself. If you want to reserve yourself time to write, you better not live in the Block. Look at me... I've been chained to the Director's desk for over a century, with never a day off..."

They spent the evening visiting Pols and Adam. There was a constant stream of visitors dropping in from the village. Eventually one of Pols' great-great grandchildren insisted on giving Asimov a tour of the village and then Mary and Isaac finally returned, quite late, to the Block. There were only a few late night revelers in the commons, one of whom had been waiting and watching for Mary. He waved to Mary and she took Isaac to his table, "Isaac, this is the replicoid of Jules Verne, he goes by the name Gabriel."

Isaac shook Gabriel's hand, "I'm honored to meet you!"

Gabriel told Mary, "I've moved in with Katie, so Isaac can have my apartment all to himself."

Katie was there, seated at the table. Mary said to her, "Are you sure that you are going to be able to tolerate Gabriel full time?"

She smiled and replied, "You may not have noticed, but Gabe and I have been shacked up for the past nine months. This will simplify things... no more running back and forth between two different apartments." She rose to her feet, ready to take Gabe back to her apartment.

Mary said, "Thank you both. I suppose I should show Isaac his new digs." Exiting from the commons, Mary led Asimov along a corridor, pointing to the doors of various writers. They came to Mary's apartment, "This is my place and Gabriel's apartment is there, the next door down. Of course, if you decide that you want to live somewhere else, we can always use that apartment to house someone else. Now that Earth has entered into the age of science fiction, we have a serious space shortage here in the Block, with far more residents than ever before." She took Isaac into his apartment. "Gabriel had originally offered to take you on as a room-mate, but I guess he realized that he'd be happier moving in with Katie."

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Isaac was wandering through the apartment. "I'm sorry to admit that I did not recognize Katie."

"Katherine O'Flaherty. You probably don't know her fantasy stories about an alien civilization on Venus."

"I'll have to look them up, although it is hard to imagine anyone living on Venus."

"Well, Isaac, let me know if you need anything... and I wish you luck as the new Director."

"I'll be coming to you frequently... for advice." 

Mary went back to her apartment, thinking about something else that Grean had told her...

__________________

Grean had finished telling Mary about her plans to bring Asimov into the Hierion Domain. Grean explained, "This won't be a duplication. I'm taking him off of Earth. This copy of Asimov had to deal with Campbell's wife for a short time before they separated, but he never married and so don't be surprised by Isaac's wild side. He was never tamed."

__________________

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So, Mary had been surprised that Grean had transmigrated Asimov into the body of a replicoid. She had expected to deal with an old man. Now she was pleased to find that he was young and smart and seemed tame enough.

Mary worked for a few hours. As a replicoid, she really did not need to sleep, but she usually did sleep for a few hours each day, just to enjoy the creativity of her dreaming mind. She was just laying down for a nap when Isaac knocked at her door. She threw off her bed sheet, pulled on a little silk robe and went to the door.

 

Standing in her doorway, he complained to her, "I guess I can't get used to this being a replicoid... not getting hungry, not being tired..."

"It is a problem for new arrivals." Mary invited him in. "I thought by walking you over to Observer Base and back I'd be able to wear you out." Mary explained, "New replicoids usually do need some sleep for memory processing down time." She brought out a wine bottle and two goblets. "And even if we don't need to eat, most folks here do drink and sometimes eat socially."

"Yes, I enjoyed socializing this evening at the Pols farm." He took a goblet of wine from Mary. "However, now I'm too excited to sleep. And, I can't stop thinking about... well, my new life."

"You'll eventually get used to the replicoid life style." They sat down on the sofa. Mary turned to face Isaac and pulled her legs up on the sofa. "Many new arrivals go through a period of experimenting with changes to their body form."

"I'm quite satisfied to be back in my 20-year-old body." Isaac was running his eyes over Mary's shapely legs. "I guess you never wanted to experiment, either."

replicoids

"Oh, I've made a few changes to this old replicoid body of mine, but you are correct. This is essentially how I looked when I was on Earth 150 years ago."

"I'm glad you never altered yourself." He reached out and stroked her leg.

"Isaac, I'm not sure we should... allow ourselves to get involved... outside of our working relationship. I've never fraternized with any of the writers and I think that would be a good policy for you to adopt, also."

He laughed. "That's not fair." He did not take his hand off of her leg. Her little silk robe did not really cover a significant part of her body. Isaac liked everything he could see. "As I see it, you are now a physicist, not a writer."

Mary giggled and pushed her foot against his leg. "I like you too, Isaac. This is going to be interesting having you as my next door neighbor."

"Good, I'm glad you agree. Now, if you don't mind, since I can't sleep, I'd like to review all the current writing projects with you and then I want to run some new names past you, young writers who have caught my eye. Maybe Grean can make copies of them..."

Mary warned Issac, "Chances are, those new writers already have a replicoid in Nanoville. Grean seldom misses her chance to duplicate an important Sci Fi author."

Seelie

Isaac nodded. "Grean told me about both Nanoville and Seelie. However, I don't understand Grean's reason for spreading her resources around in different locations. Wouldn't it be more efficient to have all the writers in one place?"

"I'm sure Grean has reasons for everything that she does." Mary suspected that Grean had long known exactly how attracted Mary would feel towards Isaac. "Always remember, Grean inherited many features of Eternity from the positronic robots."

"Well, I'd like to see the list of writers in Nanoville."

Mary shook her head. "I have no such list. Grean has never made it easy for me to keep tabs on Nanoville and what goes on there. However, you can ask Adam for help. He has contacts in Nanoville."

"You don't know which writers have already been brought to the nanorealm?" Isaac could not restrain his annoyance. "I'm surprised you put up with this nonsense for 200 years!"

"Well, don't be in too much of a rush to change things, Isaac. One of the problems we are all up against is the power of Temporal Paradoxes. We can't know too much about our futures." Mary had never developed a full telepathic connection to Grean, but sometimes she felt that she was either getting leaked thoughts from Grean or else Grean casually used infites to share some bit of information when they met. Mary had developed the idea that maybe Grean already had a nanoscopic replicoid of Asimov in the nanorealm... possible a copy of the younger Asimov who had been mentored by Campbell... the fake Campbell who had actually been this copy of Asimov, in disguise. She told Isaac, "Grean may be hiding something from you."

"You don't trust her?"

hierion physics

"I trust Grean. But she is sneaky. I see now that she tried to warn me that you would hit on me."

Isaac laughed loudly. "You are a beautiful and intelligent woman. Anyone might have predicted that I'd be captivated by you."

"Well, it makes me a bit nervous. It seems as if Grean threw the two of us together for a reason. Certainly she has seen our future." She got up and went to get a second bottle of wine. She was already rather tipsy. She wondered why replicoids had been made susceptible to the intoxicating effects of alcohol. She poured Isaac's goblet full and said, "A toast, to the mysterious Grean and her skill at manipulating coids."

Asimov lifted his goblet. "To Grean." He sipped the wine. "And I'd like to toast the marvelous Mary, who diligently kept the Writers Block going for 150 years, bringing into existence the science fiction genre." 

 

Mary nodded, acknowledging his toast. He took hold of her hand and asked, "As your successor, would you grant me a wish?"

Mary replied with her own question, "Why do I have the feeling you'll do as you please, no matter what I say?"

"Am I that transparent? I was only going to ask if I may kiss you."

She bent over and kissed his cheek then slipped away when he tried to embrace her. "I'll let you know when you can give me a kiss, Isaac. Until I know you better, you are restricted to ogling me."

"My dear Mary, I'm not ogling you." He could not state that denial with a straight face.

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Mary had already discovered that she didn't mind that Isaac enjoyed looking at her body. She took his hand and led him to her home office. She activated a display screen and brought up her records of all the writing projects that had ever been carried out at the Writers Block. He sat down in her chair and she showed him how to access the index by author name, topic or year. He began jumping around through the records and asking questions. She sat down in his lap and they got to work. 

 

Mary was only slightly alarmed by both the quickness of his mind and how quickly she became accustomed to his presence. Within half a year she had forgotten how it had been possible for her to live without him for 15 decades. Soon after that, they started knocking down the walls that separated their apartments and thereafter they shared the larger double apartment. Even Grean showed up for the house warming party.

 

Related Reading:  "Final Change", Mary and Isaac in the Hierion Domain

Next: some backstory for "Hierion Writers Club"

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