My Library

would be fun, make a big game out of it.) I couldn’t hold it back. (Famous last words. Come on.) He blanked. (No percept on that one. Last words?) I turned, went through the wall, sure that BB was following. I homed in on the one place that I knew would give him a strong rote on how distortion could accumulate. Ident New York, center of Manhattan, start with West Forty-second Street. The movement was quite short, and we came in at sidewalk level. The usual evening human composites were crowding one another, jostling, strolling, hurrying, and loitering. The eateries, the old movie houses overplugging underdone X-rated pornos on their marquees, the gimmick and gut shops, record stores blasting it out, the car and truck traffic filling the street—it hadn’t really changed in thirty years, only more of the same. Yes, this would show it. BB was in the middle of the passing parade, unnecessarily ducking and trying to avoid bumping into people. I steered him over to the curb, out of the rush and crush. He flickered. (Where’d they all come from?) (Crossroads of the world, they used to call it. Come from everywhere, lot of them live nearby.) (Why do they come here, this place!) I smoothed. (The percept is, you can find anything you want here in New York.) BB vibrated. (Still doesn’t come out new to me, even down in it.) (It’s just the ident, that’s all. But they’re doing the same thing as the man back there by the woods, every one of them. Trying to survive. Doing anything to keep alive.) BB flickered. (I don’t get the same percept. And the M Band noise is shaking me up too much. The scratchy stuff in the band, it’s the worst! Never got that before anywhere! Where’s it all coming from?) I smoothed. (Close a little, that’ll make it easier. The noise is coming from us humans. The scratchy stuff that screeches so much I finally figured out. It’s their emotions.) (Emotions?) (I won’t try to give you a percept on it, you have to be human to