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84.
They came to a gloomy hollow, deeper in the forest than ever.
“I will stand guard up here,” Keetoo said.
Leeree took Alex by the arm and led him down a slippery path among ferns.
Water splashed over rocks, and clear streams trickled away into the ground. The place smelled of moisture and vegetation. A lizard shot away up a tree, and a mass of tiny humming insects swarmed up as they walked into the clearing. A pillar of amber-green light shone almost straight down on a worn obelisk that stood on a platform of stones raised up in the middle of the clearing.
As they approached, Leeree raised her arms in reverence and with great ceremony intoned: “Djordjuashington.”
The worn surface of the obelisk seemed to flicker faintly. As Alex drew near, he saw that the obelisk was made of metal, with no rust evident, but myriad scratches. The image that somehow appeared on its surface was almost undistinguishable, but Alex readily made out the upper body of Lector. The librarian wore a suit as always and sat impeccably behind a desk with his arms folded before him. “Thank you. George Washington is the correct answer.” The program looped with a faint shift in background light and a slightly grayer Lector said: “Greetings. To assure proper system to human interaction, please name the first president of the United States.” The image faded, without waiting for answer, and reappeared in a few moments. Lector repeated: “Thank you. George Washington is the correct answer.”
“Geedeen,” Alex whispered under his breath. More loudly, he said, “Lector, I need your help.”
Alex pressed his palms against the surface, but Leeree pulled him away, saying, “No touching! It scratches his skin.”
The obelisk was a little taller than Alex, about seven feet, about four feet wide, and two feet thick. It was a plain geometric shape with not a single protrusion or embellishment of any kind. No buttons, handles, switches, or other controls. Alex supposed that vibrations activated it, and that it somehow projected some internal functionality through its metal skin. He longed to tear it out of the ground, follow it to its source...until he realized, bending over, that it floated wirelessly in mid-air just a few inches above its platform.
“Where is your master program?” Alex asked.
Lector said primly: “If this is a life threatening emergency, please use your touchtone control or headphone set to contact an Emergency Response Facility. Otherwise, please stand by.” The image faded away, then disappeared, as it was to do numerous times during the exchange. Lector was now sitting in a chair by an open window holding a silver recording device. “Greetings. What can I do to help you today?”
“Lector, can you send a boat to pick me up? I need to get back to Earth.”
“I’m afraid that request cannot be honored from this Level Gamma Kiosk. You must speak your twenty digit alphanumeric personal code and I will request an uplink for you to L5 Control.”
“Lector, a million years have passed. The station is wrecked. Do you have an emergency override?”
“I’m sorry I do not. You must report your difficulty to the nearest Emergency Services station and personnel there will direct you.”
“There are no personnel,” Alex said.
“If it is during Dim Hours, you may request a 7/24 work order at double cost, or else wait until the next Light Hour which is only...” He trailed off, and his voice became garbled. The image rippled faintly in the scratched, greenish metal surface stained by eons of water and moss. Then the image floated back into view. “...hours from now. I do not have an exact estimate of the next service call. There will be a coffee and donuts special in the aviary at eight next Light, followed by an informative talk on mating habits of the russet swamp crane. The russet swamp crane exhibit will be open from seven Light to four Dim every day this Earth week. Next week, join us in looking forward to a poetry reading by school children from Stethem Elementary School in the Lambda Corridor on Sector V. Thank you, and have a nice day.”
Alex beat his fist lightly on the side of the obelisk. “Lector, you dumb shit. Wake up. It’s all gone. Long gone. It’s over.” He wanted to beat the obelisk to shreds, but realized it was the central cultural icon of Leeree’s people, and the reason they spoke Ingish as well as they did.
“If you are detecting a malfunction not apparent to my self-test autorunner, please report this to the nearest Emergency Response Personnel.”
“They are dead, Lector. They are extinct. There are no humans left. Please go into whatever mode you have to so we can work on this problem.”
“Have a nice day.” Lector shut off.
Leeree tugged at Alex’s sleeve as they backed away. “Lector has given you an important message, yes?”
Alex did not have the heart to tell her how frustrated he was.
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