The shuttle's engines whined as it entered the docking bay, and Zaman hoped that it'd hold out long enough to get him delivered safely to the moon. If those idiots back at Central could recognize his importance, he wouldn't be booking a trip to the Jovian moons on a puddle-hopper meant for Earth-Luna transit.
If nothing else, wouldn't the time savings have been worth it? Even with the retrofitted psi-drive, the shuttle took a full two days to get to its destination: two days of cramped quarters and less than pleasant company.
He let his feet move toward ground, and began walking toward the hatch to disbark. The other passengers were amazed; they were still floating because the habitat's gravity hadn't yet enveloped the shuttle. It was like they'd never seen a psion before. For his part, Zaman just stood by the hatch, tapping an ancient wrist out of habit more than out of any particular anxiety.
The screen in the corner droned on about some war in the Trojans; resource conflicts between three different mining collectives. Hadn't Adomas ushered in an era of peace?
Zaman's first instinct on setting foot in the colony was to immediately wish he were home on Earth. It was cold, smoky, and like every other artificial habitat he had ever been on. He almost would have preferred the shuttle, with its germ-infested air and grating mechanical noises. There was a meeting he had to get to, however. He could hardly contain his frustration when an urchin, maybe ten years old, chose to ask him if he had any spare change.
"What do I look like, a charity?"
The kid got the hint and made her departure. Humanity had thousands of years of civilization under its belt, and it still couldn't keep people from going hungry.
And in Adomas' personal domain, too. Half of the people who had come to Lebadaea were rich pilgrims wanting to talk to the First Alchemist, looking for some sort of spiritual enlightenment. He would turn them away after giving them a single sentence of advice, and they'd live the rest of their lives as if it had been profound and life-shaping. Zaman was disappointed.
Fortunately, the rest of the warrens–for that is what they were–had been greatly improved from what they must have been a decade earlier. Neat and tidy, despite being carved out of the rock in a hurry, they were simple enough to navigate. He simply followed the signs; it was immediately apparent to him that Adomas was the most important thing to ever happen to this rock. They had won the lottery with him popping out here.
The grand chamber was impressive; a simulacrum of natural, Earth-style light. The air was more to Zaman's liking here, and the ceilings of the chamber had been painted to make it look, if one forgot long enough, like one was on Earth two or three thousand years earlier.
That there were natural plants growing in the soil here helped. On Earth, such a display would be considered excessive, and he'd never seen another habitat in space where plants had existed in gardens, rather than recycler systems.
The man waiting by the massive doorway to the academy spoiled the illusion. He was dressed in a neat black jumpsuit, and holding a slate computer as he watched Zaman approach.
"Asad Zaman?"
The Earthling nodded in reply.
"Follow me, he's waiting."
He–Adomas needed no other name.
The splendor of the exterior of the academy was not met by its interior: the stone appeared to have been cut by hand, and the place was lit by torches. It wasn't so dark that Zaman had to grope along, but he still noted it as another of many eccentricities.
When they reached the First Alchemist's library, the guide left Zaman, and the Earthling entered alone.
Sitting in a chair, his eyes alert but his body still, was Adomas. Not a god, just a man, as Zaman suspected. His body may have been perfect in form and symmetry, but they'd had surgery for that long before psionics came about.
"Come in and sit down, Asad."
The seat was comfortable, despite being unassuming, and a welcome change from the last couple days' quarters. Zaman sat, and made eye contact with Adomas. He could swear that the psion's body kept shifting ever so slightly–he was sure of it.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice."
"The pleasure is mine. You are here about the work with artificial intelligences?"
"Yes. Have you read my publication?"
The Alchemist gave an apologetic smile. "I did not have time, I am sorry. My work here keeps me very busy."
Zaman smiled back, trying to be disarming. "It is no matter. I wanted to get your perspective on the issue I've been having. Every time I try a new algorithm to try and get the neural patterns working, it doesn't actually do anything. I've got brain-scan data from dozens of psions, but the AI cores, configured identically, don't work. I've even had a psion run on the same substrate as the AI, and they access psionics while the AI can't."
Adomas said nothing for a while, thinking about Zaman's unspoken request. "Are you sure it's identical?"
"Everything we can test–"
"Tests may not work as well as hoped."
"Evidently. As I was saying, everything we can test looks identical, or at least as close as you can get with different minds. The AI's running within the acceptable margin of error for equivalent psion neural activity."
"Do you know why the academy is built in the style of an ancient temple?"
Zaman, not willing to look ignorant, hazarded an incorrect answer. "Because psionics contains the powers of the gods?"
Adomas sighed a short sigh, trying to hide his disappointment from the pupil sitting across from him.
"Because despite what we may learn through psionics, we are still mortal. Nothing we do will change that. Psionics can bring the contents of our inner life into reality, but it cannot fundamentally alter us. Body, mind, and spirit need to work together. Your work comes dangerously close to violating the conventions on AI research–" Zaman trailed off, not wanting to finish his accusation.
"It is all within the confines of the law. The AI are restricted to human intelligence or less."
"I understand, I meant no offense. The problem you are asking is non-trivial. What you need is a psychic impression to match the physical and mental ones you have created."
"How?"
Adomas smiled. Zaman thought he caught a tear beginning to glisten in the man's eye, despite the smile. Then the First Alchemist spoke.
"I've spoken at length about how I found the Stone, but now about how the Stone found me, and I don't know how it did."
Zaman felt irritation welling up inside him. Now was not a time for cryptic answers!
"The truth is that I don't know if I was chosen, or if I was changed by the Stone. My mastery of psionics comes from revelation, from the Stone itself, and even my brightest pupils learn only a fraction of what I saw in one moment. I do not mean to brag, because I did not do this by my own effort."
Zaman sighed. "So what's the moral to this?"
"You seek spirit from the mind and body, but it is the spirit that you must find first. Place the spirit into the mind and body, and your problem will be solved. Most people could not, but you were chosen to do this."
"That's not a lot of help."
"It's what I know, so please accept my apologies. I have a parting favor to ask of you now."
"You, the mighty Adomas, need a favor from me?"
"Yes."
"Okay, what is it?"
"Use your talent for good, not evil."
Zaman turned to leave. He smirked with his face turned away from Adomas. How could one be so naive, so old-fashioned, while holding so much wisdom and understanding? Adomas spoke almost like a saint, but he was just a man. Like everyone else. The trip all the way out here had been a waste of his time.
Pandora appeared next to Adomas in the chamber, a glowing light emanating from her flowing figure.
"Did I do the right thing?"
The woman looked at him, stared into his weary eyes.
"You did the only thing you could. Knowledge could not redeem him."
"What will happen?"
"You only ask me because you already know."
"It's my fault, isn't it?"
"Don't punish yourself for others' sake. You could not save Zaman from his own shadows. His best chance is to learn, to know as much as he can. You offered that to him."
"And what of me?"
She closed her hand around his. "We can leave very soon. Your task is almost fulfilled. Humanity will no longer need a guide."
The smile came easily across his face, and he let himself lean against the arm of his chair.
"I hope you're right."