Текст книги "Regenesis"

Автор книги: C. J. Cherryh

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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 45 страниц)

She was a scholarly woman with a lot of electronic files, preparing to make a long, state‑sponsored and fairly high‑mass move to a new life, accompanied by those data files and a fair number of household goods–plus being a CIT, likely a few items of emotional attachment.

“She’s teaching two classes currently,” Catlin reported, “besides lab courses, and she is maintaining her schedule. I checked other professors. They have more classes. Patil spends a lot of time writing and some time doing correspondence with the military labs out at Beta, which we can’t penetrate. No change of pattern there. She does guest lectures, attends bioethics conferences…”

“The people she’s contacting on Cyteen,” Florian murmured, scanning that list, and the commentary ReseuneSec provided, “old acquaintances, former students, but not many.”

“The majority may be on Beta, in Beta Labs. Security block, there.”

“I’m not going to try to crack that,” Florian said. “Not worth it to go after those–yet.” He kept reading. “Mmm. Here’s a few names on her home system, people ReseuneSec notes for further investigation.” He ran a who‑is on the few, at ReseuneSec level. “Well. Well. Well. How long have we been at this?”

“Two and a half hours.”

“Well, nothing totally new in this. We have some footnotes here from ReseuneSec. But no mischief attaches directly to Patil, except her lectures attract radicals. –Coffee,” Florian said, and got up and poured a cup from the dispenser. A glance at Catlin drew a nod, and he poured another, then looked at the clock himself. Close to time for shift‑change. “I’m going to message Marco and Wes to lie in for another couple of hours. I think we should look through Science Bureau records. Base One can probably get into those.”

“Suits me.” Catlin said. “Try it. Shall I have Gianni send us sandwiches?”

“I could use one,” Florian said, and settled back at his console, pulled out the under‑counter return that kept coffee off the main desk, and set his cup there. Catlin did whatever she was doing. He worked delicately, probed this, probed that, scanned text without storing it, and didn’t get a Base One warning of any unadvertised connections on Yanni’s access, no strings attached.

The files had some background of interest. Defense had apparently had a lot to do with Patil’s career. Black budget funding had been behind the terraforming labs when they were on Cyteen, specifically at a lab just a little outside Novgorod, a lab later razed in favor of a food production facility. Behind closed Council doors, there’d been an intense battle over removal of the nanistics lab out to Beta during the War. Centrists campaigned to keep it at least as close as Cyteen Station, not relegated to the outer system inside a Defense installation. The first Ari had supported the nanistics move to Beta, however, in agreement with Defense, and Centrists had opposed her andDefense, at that time, in a rare configuration of political alliances.

Patil, at a hundred and five years of age, had gone out to Beta when Thieu moved down to Cyteen, had subsequently distinguished herself in ways deeply classified, and then Patil herself had been moved back to Central System and onto Cyteen as a safety measure during the darkest days of the War. Patil, Thieu, and a researcher named Ibsen, Pauline Ibsen, since deceased, age one hundred thirty‑six, had all been sent down to Cyteen, three people who had been working on the blackest of black projects–most likely the production of terraforming nanistics, but theoretically only: any lab work was done out at Beta, as a potential and never‑used weapon of war.

After the War, Patil hadn’tgotten promoted back out to Beta. “Articulate, sharp, and gregarious,” so the report said, she had “fallen into the social milieu of the University,” had found herself a comfortable post and a prosperous side income as a favorite speaker at Centrist and pro‑terraforming conferences and meetings.

Clearly her imminent departure into Reseune’s employment had stirred up the Centrist community. Some comments had hit the general web, the one that any CIT could access. Some Centrists were pleased at the acceptance of what they called a moderating influence into a Reseune post: others were more concerned about losing Dr. Patil’s moderate and respectable voice in Novgorod politics, once she shipped to Fargone, and wondered if it was a means of silencing her voice. None of the reports apparently knew about her relationship to the Eversnow project.

“ ‘Moderate and reasonable,’ they call her,” Florian said, having condensed the flow for Catlin. “ ‘A peacekeeper.’ Which might argue that Yanni’s move to send Patil to Fargone really isn’t the best idea, losing her local influence. The Paxers come to her lectures. She doesn’t appear to support their activities.”

“Moderation might have been what recommended her to Yanni, however,” Catlin said, and they read a while longer.

Then Catlin said, “Read the post under Gulag.”

Interesting word. They were down to CIT political gossip on the Novgorod city net. Florian looked that word up, before investigating the site Catlin had tossed him.

The Gulag writer was passionately angry, convinced Patil’s transfer was a ticket to a Reseune‑run oblivion and possible assassination. Well, there might be a grain of truth, not likely in the second.

And there seemed, according to the ReseuneSec note, another conspiracy theory circulating, quoting a Bureau of Defense argument in committee, that it was a move by Reseune to gut the Beta Station lab: one supporter of that viewpoint maintained Patil was still doing Defense work, and could not legally be transferred from a public university into a Reseune‑run lab.

“It’s not actually the law that she can’t be transferred,” Catlin commented. “they just make it sound illegal. She’s a scientist. Science posts come from Science, even if her post is classified by Defense. She just has a job offer from Science. And if she accepts it, Defense can’t claim there’s a war reason, because the War Powers Act has lapsed.”

Catlin was very much better on law than he was.

But law wasn’t the name of the game. “Politics. Politics is all. Both sides are likely pressuring her for loyalty. But she votes in Science, because that’s what she is, doesn’t she? Check what profession she actually votes in.”

A few key‑taps, Science Bureau records. “Her voter registration is definitely Science. So she’s notregistered military any more, not since 2406. Defense still runs the lab at Beta, and if she went back out there, she’d properly be voting in Defense again. But if she goes to Fargone and works in the new Reseune set‑up, then Defense hasn’t got any complaint. They can’t claim she knows military secrets, none current, at least. No more than Thieu. So the Gulag writer is wrong in his suppositions.”

“And she wantsto go to Fargone. Otherwise she could easily get legal help from Defense and get transferred to them.”

“Which she’s not doing. So she does accept going to Fargone. And so do Defense’s upper echelons, because they agreed with Yanni. And that will be this Eversnow project, when it starts, and it’s likely to be very soon.”

“Why did she accept Yanni’s offer?” Florian asked. “Why is she agreeing to jump ship to Reseune?” Why was one of his favorite questions, best when asked when things seemed neat and wrapped up. And it seemed to fit, here. Understandable if someone didn’t want to be returned to Beta, which was remote and secretive and full of regulations. Fargone was a comfortable station–not the comforts of Cyteen Station, to be sure, but very much better than Beta. There was that. Eversnow, on the other hand, was a frontier. As barren as Big Blue. A bare steel and prefab station. No luxuries. “Novgorod’s the height of comfort. She’s respected. She has an important job. She doesn’t work hard. She’s very well paid. She has very many associates who respect her. Why choose to leave?”

Catlin frowned. It was close on CIT territory, asking the unanswerable: the emotionally founded question posing as born‑man logic, with fartoo little knowledge of the individual. “Either going to something or from something.”

“ ToReseune’s new lab. Or fromNovgorod. Could there be something in Fargone she wants? Or could there be something in Novgorod she’d like to be away from?”

“The work at Eversnow might attract her.”

“Or Novgorod might not be as good for her as it seems. She has the Paxers here. They won’t be there. Some of these people at her lectures are politically intense fringe elements. I’ve got the background summation on people attending. Long, long list.” He flashed it over to her. “Some of these people have third‑degree contacts under intense watch, indirect links to persons undergoing mindwipe in the hotel bombing that tried to kill us.”

“Politics,” Catlin said.

“Politics,” Florian said, and tagged the whole area for re‑reading and absorption. “I’m going to tape this bit–considering how it connects to Yanni, and considering sera’s plans–which don’t wholly agree with Yanni. It still doesn’t answer the timing of the card.”

“Give me the tape,” Catlin said. “That’s a good find. Not the opinion, the names.”

For deepstudy, that is: things they needed to absorb completely, names they needed to know and deep‑associate with Paxer activity. And with Sandi Patil. So they never forgot them.

It was a luxury he and Catlin had never enjoyed before, to sit atop a pyramid of data, with skilled people doing exactly what they were Contracted to do, people tapped into all of ReseuneSec and going over reports from all that organization did on Cyteen and elsewhere. The ReseuneSec access didn’t lead them to new things, but it organized things in a way different from Base One–and that gave them a window into ReseuneSec thinking.

First it seemed to lead them further and further afield from the item they’d started chasing: Jordan Warrick and the infamous card…and then it seemed to lead back again…to Yanni’s office; and Jordan Warrick. And Patil.

“We need to filter this other, too,” Florian said. “The net opinions. Not good to deepstudy it.” Deepstudy diminished critical thinking. This was opinion. A lot of opinion, from untrustworthy people. They just needed the names from the Novgorod CIT net, and the suspicions attached to them.

“I don’t know where we’re going to get the time to do this,” Catlin said. “Sera wants to begin prep for moving.”

It wasn’t convenient, the timing of their complete relocation. Their new staff was delayed. But there was worry on the other side, too, that sera would be less safe if they delayed getting her into a more fortified residence.

“No good complaining,” Florian said. “We just have to do this.” Patil’s data was still flying under his fingers. “We need to understand it. All our lives, we’ll need to. These are the Enemy. This is where it starts. The people that may be against sera now are the people that will be against sera all her life. And for now–for now we just watch Base Two very carefully.”

BOOK

THREE

BOOK THREE Section 1 Chapter i

JUNE 1, 2424

1528H

Growth proceeded at the same breakneck pace, for Giraud, for Abban, for Seek, at fifteen weeks. They were all without significant defect, and on the path to being male. They took in amniotic fluid, practice and pressure alike expanding the rudimentary structures of their lungs, and Abban was now tallest of the three, a bit heavier–in grams, which was the scale on which they existed.

Giraud’s face was broader–hard to see, but it was.

They had human proportions, more or less–their legs were longer than their arms were. Their rudimentary eyes, as yet without an opening in the lids, and not quite on the front of the faces, were growing sensitive to more and less light–a probing beam, into a tank, would get a definite reactive flinch: they didn’t knowthey didn’t like it, but change in what‑was drew response, an instinct to preserve the status quo. It wasn’t fight‑flight yet, just the beginnings of it.

Details had emerged, tastebuds, which would matter a great deal to Giraud, less so to Abban and Seely Those appeared, and simultaneously, the ability to sweat–though sweat was not that useful, in the fluid environment, in the rocking safety of artificial wombs. They continued, enveloped by the soft, variable thump of a human heartbeat, steel mother‑sound, helping set the rhythm of their bodies. Individuality had asserted itself. Their fingerprints differed, as surely as their DNA. And they were not like each other, not at all.

BOOK THREE Section 1 Chapter ii

JUNE 1, 2424

1528H

There’s a reason, I think, that the first Ari wasn’t kind: not many people were kind to her–they just gave her a lot of privileges, or let her get away with what she wanted to do because they didn’t pay attention, and that’s not the same. So I don’t think Ari quite understood about kindness. But I don’t think having had kindness in my life means that I’m less driven to succeed than she was. My brain is as good as hers. I might have just a few different motives–she fought for power and her own protection. I fight to protect the people I love. But she fought, and I fight. That much is the same.

The new wing, Alpha Wing, well–new, in my time, though for you it’s not. It’s where you live now, unless somebody decides otherwise, or unless you decide otherwise, for security reasons, or just because you don’t like my decor any more than I like Denys’. I don’t know how long Reseune can add new wings for every one of us that’s ever born. But there you are. Or there you will be–I hope somewhat safe and comfortable in your day.

And today I’ve given the order that will mean my Uncle Denys gets born in due course, seven years from now, or whenever if I’m sure I can compress the schedule a bit: that’s a decision Yanni has left to me, but Til probably stick to the seven years. If I do, it’s mostly for Giraud’s sake. And I’m going to apologize to you right now about creating Denys, because you’ll probably hate him and you’ll probably have really good reason. But I’m afraid Giraud is going to be too easygoing, without him. And this time Denys will be the young and ignorant kid, not me. I’m afraid by the time you come along, you’ll get the old Denys, the way I did, and I’m sorry for that.

I don’t want to change Denys’s essential nature–it’s his program–but I’ll have to think about that, maybe for quite a few years before I actually order his geneset into the womb. I have plenty of time to get ahead of him. Once you start changing foundational things in our patterns, as you’ll be learning, everything after that has to flex, and that’s rapidly a field‑too‑large problem. A very, very big problem. The variables are terrible.

And I don’t know how well my upcoming move to a new wing will work. Wing One is historic, and it’s important, and if architecture can embody a psychological structure, a lot of what made Reseune is in its walls and its rooms. But I’m trying, at least, to set new patterns, and the new wing is where I’m making my start.

Among first jobs, I want to patch all the things up that my Denys deliberately broke. He sent a lot of people away, people I’d attached to…my playmate Valery, and his whole family, even if they were Yanni’s relatives. I missed him terribly. And they sent Maman and Ollie out to Fargone, and I couldn’t do anything about it. Maybe you’ve had people vanish from your life, too. I hope not. But if they have, pay attention to what I’m doing note. These people I’m calling home to me may be important to you in your own life, if they all live that long, and if I could, substitute Valery for Denys, for your sake, oh, I would do that, so fast. Valery was so kind, so nice, he made me happy as long as I had him for a friend, and they sent him and his mother away precisely because I liked, him. And we were only babies, ourselves, well, nearly so. But I never forgot him. That’s one piece of justice I’m going to do, first and foremost. I don’t know how he’s turned out. That’s one.

And Ollie. He was an alpha azi when I knew him. He was Maman’s companion. Right now he’s Director of the labs out at Fargone…he’s very good at what he does. He’s legally a CIT now, and of course he’s old, far, far past a hundred, and a long time on rejuv, and he’ll do what he wants to. I’d so love to see Ollie again. I’d love to make everything right for him–he’d have grieved so much when Maman died and nobody treated him with any consideration at all, here at Reseune, or out there, at the time. But I won’t order him to come, as old as he is, and knowing the trip itself might be hard on him. Fargone was where she died, and for all I know he may be attached to that place, and it’s certain he has his work out there, that’s very important to Reseune. No matter what I want, I wouldn’t want to tear him away from his place there if he doesn’t want to come back. And between you and me, I really don’t think he will.

And I’ve given invitations to the others, too, not necessarily to live in Alpha Wing, but maybe they will, if they’re nice people. I want them at least to be able to come back to Wing One, where they used to live. Valery’s mother was Andrea Schwartz, who is Yanni Schwartz’s family, and Yanni couldn’t protect her from being exiled: she was out there with Jenna Schwartz, who used to be in charge out there, but she was a fool, and Yanni moved her out. And then there’s Julia Strassen, and I know she’s still alive: she was Maman’s real daughter, and I’ve written to her, too, to bring her back with Valery and Andrea Schwartz. Maman had agreed to bring me up, because she was a scientist, That meant Julia and her daughter Gloria had to stay away from the apartment and not upset me. Gloria was a brat, but her mother hated me for ruining their lives even if she knew it wasn’t really my fault–I was a baby. I think Julia pretty well set up the atmosphere that made Gloria act up whenever they visited. She probably didn’t intend to, which I think shows something about Julia. Their going away–I think that would have happened when I got to a certain age anyway; and I’m sure Denys would have sent them away when he sent Maman. But I’m sure it hurt less for Aunt Julia to be mad at me than it did for her to be mad at her own maman, and being mad at me was certainly a lot safer than being mad at Denys Nye at the time. So she was exiled to Fargone, too, and I don’t know what Maman thought about it, but I’m not sure she liked Julia or Gloria that much at the last.

So it’s time for all those old accounts to be settled, and for me to make amends as best I can–especially to Valery, who never did anything in his life but be my friend without being in the Program.

My maman’s real name, you know by now, was Jane Strassen. And she was a brilliant woman, and very dedicated to the Project, but she wasn’t ever cold to me the way Denys was. Maman really loved me and I loved her, which is probably the first place I deviated from the Program–because the first Ari’s mother wasn’t kind to her at all.

And I’m sure Maman started out loving Julia and Gloria, too, but Gloria certainly wasn’t very loveable by the time I remember anything about her, and Julia just looked daggers at me–that’s all I can remember about her. Maybe she’ll read my invitation and tell me go to hell. I’d honestly be relieved.

Why did Maman get involved in bringing me up, and forget about her own daughter and granddaughter? I found out that Yanni talked her into it and promised her she could get off Cyteen and go back into space where she was from. But at a certain point I think Maman got curious what I’d be like, and maybe she saw things about me that reminded her of the Ari she’d, worked with, and deliberately encouraged some things and corrected others. I can’t remember that part, and I haven’t found all of it in records, but if you can find it, it might be worth looking at, just for your own curiosity–in case it answers some question you hate about me. I think Maman had some inkling of protecting me from Denys, or maybe making the Program work better for some altruistic or scientific reason–because I was an experiment, after all, and Maman was a scientist, not somebody just mindlessly plodding along a track.

I remember one day: Maman comparing Gloria to me and finally telling Julia to take Gloria and get out of the apartment… Gloria was trying to beat my brains in, that day, so there was a reason, but I can still hear Maman telling Julia to get her daughter out of there, and even then I knew it wasn’t the most politic thing she could have said to her daughter. When you live so long–when rejuv lets you go through family after family, the layers get more complicated than nature ever designed us to deal with, I think. The relationships get tangled, adults with kids, this generation’s kids with the other one–they sell a lot of books advising people how to get along with polygenerational families and serial partners and rejuv issues. Maybe by your generation it’ll all be saner, but rejuv was still a new issue in those days, and people didn’t always handle it well. I know Maman’s household was likely upset before I even got there, and my presence just drove Julia over the edge and made her do things that weren’t smart.

And Valery–who wasn’t even part of our family–the Project directors couldn’t have me getting attached to a friend, or have me that happy, so they had to find a way to get Valery away from me. There just wasn’t much of anywhere to send his mother, Andrea, because she was doing classified work. So off they went to ReseuneSpace at Fargone, where they could be in a sealed research community, involved with trying to clone another personality. Look up Rubin, if you’re curious.

Denys was probably the one who ordered Valery to go away–because at a certain point–you understand better than anyone–it was just time for life to get harder for me.

So for starters, they sent Valery away, and Julia and Gloria, and then when I was seven, they sent Maman away. And that was because the first Ari’s mother died at that precise age, and it was time, in the Project, for Jane Strassen to go away–along with Ollie, which was kind of Denys, at least, that Ollie went with her…but I think Denys never even thought about that. They just wanted everybody I loved to leave, and Denys took charge of me one day and told me Maman was gone forever and I had to move in with him, and that was the way things had to be.

I was upset. I was terribly upset. Everything had been good, and then it wasn’t, and he really hated having a child around. He made that clear, fast.

Worse, he particularly hated the first Ari. Or at least what he felt about her was tangled and complicated. If what I think is right, he may be the one who killed her. Or his azi did, to protect him from her. And Abban and Seely are both dead, so nobody can ask them what the truth was, not that it matters, now, anyway.

I hope, I really do, that you don’t have to go through that kind of separation from people you love. But probably you’ve already had to, and maybe you hate me as part of all of it, but likely by now you probably realize why you had to go through it, so I hope you forgive me along with the rest of them. I know I might not have survived my coming of age if I hadn’t been through the fire.

So maybe the first Ari was right, and if I’d had no stress on me I’d be like that poor clone of Estelle Bok. I’d guess you still study that case, along with Rubin, or if you don’t–do. They gave Bok Two the best of everything, and that genius brain just floundered around with no boundaries, until it went way, way off into miserable territory, and became none too sane. Rubin wasn’t a great success, either, or isn’t, so far. He’s just a pretty good chemist. And his predecessor, with every luxury in the world, committed suicide right in the middle of the program. Didn’t that throw my keepers into a fit?

So you are whatever you are, and I am what I became, because they were suddenly hard on me at the right time. The first Ari had had her mother telling her when to breathe in and out, until her life changed suddenly and her mother died and she was just Ari, trying to survive in Reseune and not to have anybody murder her. She suddenly had to fight. So did I. Maybe so do you.

So even at eighteen years old, I’m still sorting out what the Project did to me, and I can say I’m all right and I’m glad I learned to defend myself. But I’m not satisfied with just finding out I’m all right. Now is my time to try to sort out what the Project did to other people–people the Project didn’t give a damn if it hurt. Maybe it will work. Maybe it’s beyond recovery. But I intend to try.

I hope all those people will find a way to love me after all. It’s selfish. But I do hope so. Is that a vulnerability? Maybe. But it’s me.

BOOK THREE Section 1 Chapter iii

JUNE 1, 2424

1540H

Ari shoved back from the console. Replayed the last bit. Struck it out, disturbed by what had come out of her in that rambling account, not sure it was good for her successor to hear that much honesty, whether that it was too stupid, that badly written, too naive to say, or whether it revealed too much–it was embarrassing, was what. It revealed a trigger. A touch‑point. That was worth considering. It was just too personal.

But her successor had to know her. It could be life or death. And she recalled that section, reviewed it, then entered the code that made it, with all the other entries, uneraseable.

BOOK THREE Section 1 Chapter iv

JUNE 6, 2424

1657H

It ought to be suppertime, but it wasn’t, yet–the new domestic staff was finally arriving. Ari had put on a favorite rose sweater and a nicer pair of pants, plus a little jewelry, anxious to have the new people have the best impression of her and the household.

Catlin and Florian had missed their dinnertime, too–there was never a time she met strangers that they weren’t right beside her. Marco and Wes were in the security station, it being their shift as of an hour ago, but the rest of staff was stirring about in the kitchen, getting ready with a nice little party, sandwiches and refreshments for the incomers.

Herself–she was thinking of that pile of sandwiches when the word came that the group had passed building security, presented their IDs, and been logged in. That was about a three‑minute process to reach upstairs via the lift, another to reach her apartment.

Deep breath.

And a group of people exited the lift and approached the apartment. Corey was on duty there, with his partner Mato, the two Marco and Wes identicals. They were spit and polish for the occasion.

And, no question, the group on the other side of the door would be all nerves: they were just Contracted. It was birthdays, weddings, and first jobs all rolled into one bundle and presented to them–and they were Contracted not just to anyclient, mind, but–she could think so without overmuch egotism–to her. With all she meant to make thatmean to them, every advantage, every comfort for her staff. She’d do well for them, and they’d help her run the new place, once they moved over.

She stood in the hallway, hands folded. Corey opened the doors to the newcomers, a handsome lot, mostly male, all wearing the typical azi barracks issue. Her domestics, like Corey and Mato, wore dark blue, her security–like Florian and Catlin, plain black. These wore, at the moment, gray.

The group stopped, shuffled a little, making room for the lot of them in the foyer. They eyed her respectfully.

“I’m Ariane Emory,” she said, and that name would resonate off their Contracts, which was much, much more than paper. The whole group bowed, as if one nerve ran through them all. “I expect,” she said, “that you’re Theo.”

“Theo BT‑384, sera,” the foremost identified himself–a dark, squarefaced man with a cleft in his chin.

“Theo, you’re our new majordomo.”

“Yes,” Theo said cheerfully, and drew forward the woman at his side, a thin‑boned blonde with fine features. “My partner, Jory.”

“Jory will be your direct assistant in your post. Pro tem major domo has been Callie. You’ll work with her to get settled in. Callie will be household administration and chief of supply, hereafter, and answer to you, but no other on staff.”

Theo bowed. Jory did.

“Very satisfactory,” she said. “I’m very pleased with you.” Meeting new Contracts, as their Supervisor, she found it was of utmost importance to offer reassurance, confirmation: they were psychologically exposed, as never in their lives, and so much hung on her expressions and her tone.

“And who is Wyndham?” she asked.

Wyndham stepped to the fore, one of the most anticipated of arrivals, their new cook, with his partner Hiro. That meant that Gianni, who did excellent desserts, could concentrate on his specialty and give the running of the kitchen over to someone who could orchestrate dinner for eight and take great delight in showing off.

Logan, Haze, Tomas, Spessy: they were general work, domestic and repair. The two remaining women, Del and Joyesse, were solely to attend her personal needs, do her hair, handle her wardrobe, and double‑check her appointments and calendar.

And Callie showed up, nodded very respectfully to Theo and Jory when introduced.

“Very well done,” Ari said to Callie, because it was important, too, that the original household staff feel appreciated and by no means diminished in the arrival of more specifically trained individuals. “You’ve all done extremely well, under very trying circumstances. Nothing supplants your respect, and you retain a special place in my regard, for being with me longest and managing everything. I have a special affection for my senior‑most staff: I have every confidence in you in this transition. Understand, this arrival frees you of any extraneous duties, and you will repeat this, verbatim, to all the staff: you are needed and much respected.”

“Sera,” Callie said, and bowed. Her eyes sparkled–that last bit was all keywords, deepset, key to this staff’s feelings of accomplishment, resonating specifically off deepsets like an affectionate caress, and Callie was empowered to pass it on. “Shall I guide the new staff, sera?”