Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 707
without stems. Its roots ran straight into bedrock and heat
radiated off it as from an oven. Armiger hadn't anticipated that
effect of its metabolism--it might well start a forest fire if he
wasn't careful. That would certainly raise the ire of the Winds,
which was good, but it might also threaten Mason.
This cactus was of a design older than Armiger himself.
It was a product of 3340's imagination, not his. It had the
potential to bud all manner of other mechal life forms off its
round leaves, and he had never had time to explore the
complete catalog of possibilities. He asked it now to provide
him with a list of forms able to speak that it could grow
rapidly.
Wait... it said in an eerily familiar voice.
Armiger stopped climbing.
"What's wrong?" asked Galas. She touched his arm. He
realized he had been glaring down into the valley, his hands
balled into fists.
"Nothing," he said. "Let's keep going."
I can produce any of these, said the mechal tree in 3340's
voice.
Armiger gasped, but he did not stop climbing. The tree
unrolled a series of images in his mind of mechal animals,
some disturbingly human-shaped. Armiger barely paid
attention--it was the touch of the tree's mind that held his
attention. It had a certain signature to it--his own, of course,
but also something more. Were he asked to describe it, the best
he could have done would have been to say that the thing's
mind smelled like 3340.
"Thank you," he told it. "Do nothing. Sleep now."
I cannot sleep now, it said.
Armiger swore.
"Tell me," said Galas between gasping breaths.