Free Worlds Enough and Time by Joe Haldeman Page A

of objects increases quite literally with the square of the number of objects. And as Dr. Ogelby said, there are two hundred requests ahead of you.”
    “So what does that mean? Weeks? Months? Years?”
    “That depends on how flexible you can be. It may
be
years if you insist on the move being done all at once. If you can move a bit now, a bit later, then I can match you up with other work orders. Somebody who needs to move a grand piano to the other side, so to speak.”
    “That would be fine.”
    He stared at the diagram for a full minute without speaking. “Hum. There is an overall problem. Your Enter-tainment areas are spread out over all levels.”
    “That’s true.” Full-gravity weight lifting to zero-gee sex.
    “But Education is almost all on Level Two. I assume that is an optimum gravity for learning.”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Do you have any extremely concentrated masses? Things you would need a heavy ’bot to move?”
    “We do have two grand pianos, a Baldwin and a Steinway.”
    “From Earth?” He smiled for the first time. “We brought the oddest things.”
    “They won’t be moved, though. They’re in the two concert halls. Smith and I share two upright pianos that are in his classrooms, and a harpsichord that I have in a Level Two practice room.”
    “A harp—?”
    “It’s an old-fashioned kind of piano.”
    He shook his head, still amused. “I thought that we could duplicate any waveform with an electronic keyboard.”
    “I suppose. Musicians are funny, though.” I was suddenly transported back to a couple of weeks before Launch, when I stood behind Chul’ Hermosa for an hour of Scarlatti magic, his long brown fingers hammering the ancient ivory keys with exquisitely measured passion. I could feel the bass notes in my teeth.
    Would a waveform, whatever it was, do that? Would it duplicate the soft fingerpad sound when he barely stroked a high note? Not to mention the smell of wax and the hypnotic swirl of inlaid gold and mother-of-pearl. The connections with centuries past.
    “Are you all right, Dr. O’Hara?”
    “Sorry. I was thinking.”
    His expression did not radiate confidence in my thinking ability. “This is what I want you and Mr. Smith to do. Give me a list of everything both of you are in charge of—exactly where it is and approximately how much it weighs. We’ll do a first-order analysis and decide whether it would be better to relocate your things or his. Or move both of you to a third location.”
    “That shouldn’t be hard. The computer must know where just about everything is.”
    “The computer knows where things are supposed to be. I have to know where they actually are. You have GP auxiliaries?”
    That was Personnel jargon for laborers. “Four of them, plus a medium ‘bot. I could get a heavy one from Silke Kleber with a little notice.” As soon as I said her name, I knew I shouldn’t have. Implying personal relationships with both his supervisors.
    He just nodded, though. “You might prefer to requisition it through me. Same robot, one less layer of bureaucracy.
    “At any rate, once I have the information from you and Mr. Smith, and perhaps a hundred others who will be moved fairly soon, I can put it through a scheduling algorithm.”
    “A year wouldn’t be too bad. Thank you, Dr. Seven.” He gravely shook hands with me and then returned his attention to the screen. He typed something and the six levels rolled back upon themselves to become concentric cylinders, rotating realistically, twice as fast as a clock’s second hand. The dizziness started to come back. I closed my eyes long enough for the sensation to go away, and then turned and carefully walked back to the door.
    John was waiting for me, sitting on a folding chair, looking exhausted. “Let’s get you home.”
    He gave me a wan smile. “That’s why I scheduled my raid for 1300, of course. Thought I might seduce you into a backrub.”
    “Sure. I’m clear to 1530.” We walked and