Free The Mind Pool by Charles Sheffield Page B

And King Bester, comfortable in the cramped warrens of the city, trembled under the star-filled sky with its cold brilliance.
    Walking closer together than either realized, they hurried across three fields of dark-green mutated sedges. Bester knew their destination exactly. After only a few minutes under bare sky he was ducking thankfully into a roofed enclosure. The two men descended a short flight of steps to an open door and a darkened room. Standing at the threshold was a tall, stooped man with a domed bald head, jutting red nose, and long straggling beard.
    “The Margrave of Fujitsu.” King Bester was at his most formal. “Commander Luther Brachis.”
    The Margrave stared at them gloomily and nodded. He closed the door and triple-locked it, then turned and pressed a light switch. At the other side of the room sat a bulbous plant, five feet high and about two feet across. When the light went on the leaves of the swollen upper part began to open. In less than thirty seconds a single vast flower was revealed. Its central part resembled a human face, with pink cheeks, curved red mouth, and blind blue eyes. After a few moments, the mouth opened. A thin, beautiful tone came forth, a crystalline, pure soprano singing a wordless lament. The song continued and broadened, from a simple theme through to a complex coloratura embroidery.
    “One of my most successful creations, I think.” The Margrave spoke in excellent standard Solar. “I call this Sorudan —the spirit of song. Stimulated to sing by light, of course, but the real trick is that the melody never repeats unless I so desire. I will be most sorry if I am ever forced to sell Sorudan. ” He lowered the level of light in the room. The voice slowly faded, while the melody passed through sublime downward ripples of semitones to a plagal cadence. The sightless eyes closed. Moments later the petals began to curve in around the silent face.
    The Margrave led the way in silence into the next room. Luther Brachis followed, slowly. Even if the display of Sorudan had been laid on just for his benefit, it was no less impressive. The ugly artist had created a work of astonishing beauty.
    The walls of the next room were lined with cages and holographic images. Brachis saw to his satisfaction that the range of this Needler lab’s output was diverse, and seemingly unlimited in its range. Aquaforms, peering out from their tanks of green-tinged water, sat next to the blinking raptor shapes of gryphons, while just beyond that a holograph of a skeletally-thin kangaroo stood next to—and loomed over—a giraffe. Farther along, under intense arc lights, an inch-long bear ambled along the flat pad of a water-lily. Above it, and above everything, mobile plants quivered and snaked along the ceiling, following moving sources of overhead light.
    The Margrave waved a casual arm across the display. “Just to give you an idea. The King tells me that you’re not interested in a simple art product, which most of these are. So why don’t you outline your requirement? Then I’ll tell you if I think it can be done, and give you a cost estimate.”
    “I don’t have a complete description. Not yet. But I’ll be willing to pay you very well. And he’ll have to go.” Brachis nodded to Bester. “What I have to say is for your ears only.”
    King Bester looked startled. He began to object, then shrugged. “All right by me. I get paid either way.”
    He went sulkily through to the next room and watched while Luther Brachis carefully closed the door. After a few seconds Bester went across and put his ear to it. He could hear nothing. He waited impatiently for fifteen minutes, even standing on a chair to see if anything was visible over the top of the door. It wasn’t. By the time the door opened again and the two men came out, he was hopping in inquisitive frustration.
    “I’ll send the full specifications just as soon as I have them,” said Brachis.
    The Margrave nodded and opened the outer