The universe is a playground of improvisation. It follows no external pattern.
— NORMA CENVA,
revelations translated by Adrien Venport
Sealed inside her spice-filled tank, Norma knew no boundaries whatsoever. Nothing was concrete anymore, and the sensation— exhilarating, breathtaking— felt utterly natural. Mere walls could not contain her. She had not left her chamber in many days, and yet she had gone on an incredible voyage of discovery.
A spectrum of unusual abilities rose and fell in her mind, like bubbles of possibility, largely beyond her control, as if some god were displaying them for her perusal, showing her a broad realm of wondrous possibilities. She had spent her life trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe, and now majestic threads and strings and ideas reeled out all around her.
She was able to observe Adrien from afar, like a benevolent angel, as he performed his complex and time-consuming work for VenKee Enterprises. Intelligent, capable, visionary— truly a synthesis between herself and Aurelius.
Now, just outside the walls of her tank, breathing normal air, Adrien peered through the streaked clearplaz walls. He was trying to see her inside, to reassure himself that his mother was still alive. She knew he was greatly worried about her and unable to understand why she refused to leave the enclosure, why she wouldn’t eat or respond… and why her physical body seemed to be changing. When she took the time and concentration, she could send signals outside to reassure him, to communicate with him, though it seemed increasingly difficult to expend the energy. And it was difficult to make herself comprehensible… not just to Adrien, but to anyone but herself.
With the controls at her strangely rubbery fingertips— her hands had begun to show… webbing?— she kept filling the enclosure with spice gas, in heavier and heavier concentrations. The vapors swirled around her, an orange soup with a strong cinnamon odor.
As her mind grew stronger, larger, and more dominant, the rest of her body atrophied. The transformation continued in odd directions— the torso, arms, and legs withering while her brain enlarged. Remarkably, her skull did not act as a constraint; instead, it grew.
Her clothing had fallen off, deteriorating from the potent concentrations of melange. But Norma no longer needed garments: Her new body was smooth and asexual, little more than a vessel to contain her expanding mind.
She rested on the cushion she had brought with her, but Norma no longer felt her surroundings. Some normal physical functions ceased: She no longer needed to eat, drink, or eliminate bodily wastes.
Knowing that her son was trying to see her, she leaned forward to the plaz wall. Norma could feel Adrien’s presence, his thoughts, his concerns. She noted the narrowed eyes and the size of his pupils, the marks of concern etched on his forehead and around his mouth, as if painted there by a master artist. A thin film of fearful perspiration covered his brow.
She could identify each of her son’s facial expressions, which began to remind her of conversations they’d had in the past. In her growing mind, Norma catalogued their entire relationship. Assembling the data of their interactions, she matched the past thoughts her son revealed in words with the way he had looked each time he spoke.
Ah. She understood. Now Adrien was wondering what to do to help her. Three aides stood with him, and she could read their lips. They wanted to break into the container so that Norma could receive medical attention. He listened to them, but had not yet agreed to do anything.
Trust me. I know what I am doing.
But he could not hear her distinct thoughts. Adrien Venport was torn with indecision— a very unusual thing for him.
In her spice reverie, Norma noted the subtle markings of his demeanor, the luster of his eyes, the curve of his mouth. Was he recalling an old conversation? Her own words floated back to her. “Melange will enhance my prescience and enable me— and others who follow— to accurately navigate the spacefolders. I can foresee the hazards before they occur, and I can avoid them. It is the only way to respond swiftly enough. No longer will the Holtzman engines be an unsafe means of rapid space travel. It will change… everything.”
I have the key to the universe. But you must let me finish.
Norma tried to remember how to control her face, how to form her most serene, calm expression. She needed to give Adrien the impression that she had everything under control. When she tried to speak to him, her words sounded to her own ears as if they were vibrating through a thick medium of water.
“This is where I want to be, my son. Each moment I draw closer to my goal, to the perfect state I must attain in order to navigate our ships safely. Do not worry about me. Trust in my vision.”
But the spice chamber had no speaker system— an inexcusable oversight, she realized— and he could not hear her distinctly. Still, she hoped he would get the sense of her message. Adrien had nearly always managed to understand her, somehow.
However, he was also coolly logical and pragmatic. He knew how long it had been since his mother had had any food or water. No matter how she tried to reassure him now or what she had told him before entering the tank, he would be concerned about what she was doing. Still, he hesitated, trusting his genius mother to know what she was doing… to a certain extent.
Clearly, his muscular aides wanted to remove her from the container by force. They carried heavy tools that could either dismantle or smash open the tank. Several doctors had already expressed the opinion that it was impossible for Norma to have survived as long as she had. Once again his mother had accomplished what no one had thought possible.
But not without cost. Staring at her through the transparent wall, he could see how dramatically her body had changed, the extreme alterations and evolution that her physical form had undergone. She was no longer human.
Apparently, Adrien was alarmed by what he saw in her face. With a deep weariness, he motioned toward his three aides, who raised their heavy tools. If they broke through the plaz walls, all the spice gas would rush out, possibly killing them, possibly suffocating her. Behind them, through the uncertain blur of the chamber’s stained walls, she saw that Adrien had arranged for medical specialists to stand by with emergency life-support equipment.
Before the men could move, Norma raised her sticklike arms to ward them off. If they committed such a foolish act, they would throw the now-bright future of the space-folding program into irretrievable chaos.
She analyzed Adrien’s thoughts. He had made his decision, convinced that what he was doing would save her life. She stared back at him, silently pleading, willing him to understand. Then, as he looked at her for one last time, she saw his facial muscles relax abruptly, like a sudden calm falling over a stormy sea.
Her ropy, misshapen index finger brushed the surface of the plaz, touching the caked melange dust that had collected there. Trying to remember more primitive methods of communication, Norma moved her fingertip, smearing a mark on the surface. Straight lines, precise angles, curves, an ellipse. A simple word.
NO.
And Adrien clearly saw something in his mother’s enlarged spice-blue eyes that stared at him through the thick barrier— an eerie, hypnotic awareness. Silently, showing supreme confidence in her own vision, Norma urged her son, hoping he would understand. He had to trust her now. Don’t disturb me. I am safe! Leave me.
Just as the men were poised to break through, Adrien ordered them to stop. His patrician face was a mask of uncertainty and conflicting emotions. The attending doctors tried to change his mind, but he sent them away. Then he broke down and wept.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” he said through the plaz, and she understood him perfectly.
Yes, you are.