Space Eater by David Langford Read Free Book Online

never really needed.
    “Of course some of them in Central say Tunnel’s not needed either,” Wui said as he cut more slices of the gritty bread. “Word is, there are three official research establishments left on this bloody island—and a good minority of those buggers in Zurich Central think that’s three too many. Look around you ... see the enormous staff living here in idleness!”
    He wanted a grin and I gave him one. Besides Wui and Corman and myself, and Birch at a table of his own in a corner, there were about twenty people sitting at the chipped plastic tables. Security ate with Security and Maintenance with Maintenance. Some of them sneaked looks at us. Add one: the dour cook behind the counter, ladling the porridge and measuring out sugar and salt. Add two or three more for the guardshift I supposed must be on duty at the entrance lift.
    “The atomic energy research center down at Harwell used to have ten thousand staff before the collapse, I read it somewhere,” said Corman. (I still couldn’t think of her as Rossa or Wui asMick y, and I doubted Birch’s mother had ever been able to call him anything but Birch.) She was still frozen-faced, feelings tucked behind a scrambler lock. I’d have guessed the assignment ahead had her stiff with fright, only she’d looked much the same before our good friends spilled the messy details.
    “They still run Harwell,” I said, remembering. “They turn out all sorts of stuff now. The Force medic tanks, they make those there.”
    Wui said, “Don’t I know it. We had to requisition three for the plan—the first didn’t work after we’d taken it apart and put it together again. Rather small pieces, you see. Harwell were almost stroppy about supplying the second; I suppose they thought we were black-marketing the things. Can’t have the peasantry getting reserved medical privileges, and all that.”
    “Of course not,” said Corman, deadpan as ever. “Central started out with ideals of building something from the ruins, they say, and now they’re as corrupt as any of the old governments.”
    “Hey, careful, those is fighting words,” Wui said, nervous and joking at the same time. He looked off to one side and I could guess the table there was full of Security.
    I pushed back my plate. “What now ...Mick y?”
    “Now, yes, now you get the guided tour of the wonders of technology. See the decaying equipment.
    Thrill to the incompetence of the whole operation...” He got up.
    “Please,” Corman said. “This is a serious matter for one or two of us.”
    “I don’t think it’s much of a joke myself,” I said as we left the canteen with that feeling of many eyes on our backs.
    “Oh God. You think you’re the only ones with worries? Every time I go into the AP lab I know I could change three circuits and wipe this country off the map. Every time I use the minigate I expect something even worse. And all the time between shifts when I’m doing nothing, I know some sod 162 light-years away might be about to shout ‘_Eureka! It works!_’ over his little matter-transmitter while that goddamn instantaneous pulse goes out and this time one of those millions on millions of novas is the one right out there. Apart from that, I haven’t a care in the world. Ho, ho. Life is all one merry joke.”
    “Do Security run stability checks here?” I asked; it was the right thing to say, or the wrong one, since Wui shut up and we went on a fair way with only the gritty sound of concrete underfoot. The corridor was low-ceilinged and dim; the yellowish lights high on the walls were set just too far apart, and some were missing, so the soggy yellow light kept fading and coming back all the way along. In one place the left wall was glistening with damp, and what looked like fungus was growing where it met the floor; all the way it stank of old cement falling to sand. Way behind us, I could hear someone following.
    “Here we are.” There was a rough-welded steel wall