by Brian Lumley
“Back there” was the most awesome place—and perhaps even more so than the Möbius Continuum itself—for as Jake had said it was mankind’s past from a primordial cradle to modern times.
It was birth and life and death, and it was blue from beginning to end. Blue life-threads sprang like neon umbilical cords from Jake and Millie’s middles, sprang away into the past where they twined and wound, gradually fading into all the years gone by, mingling with and losing themselves, becoming indistinguishable among a million, a billion, six billion other threads just like them. And every one of them a life.
And way back there, where all of those myriad life-threads converged—those time-trails of humanity, coming together in a far faint neon nebula some half a million years ago,—that was where the human race had its origin.
Mankind’s Big Bang, since when it had expanded—was still expanding—like the universe itself, not only in space but in time. Back there, yes: the beginning of us all…
It seemed to Millie that she could hear a sound, a protracted, orchestrated sighing, an Ahhhhhhh! as if an angelic chorus were sending its one-note hymn, its hum, its resonance out into the Möbius Continuum. But an Ahhhhhhh without end. Hearing that thought, Jake told her:
No, it’s just that it should be there. I don’t think anyone could look at something like this without “hearing” it. We have pictures of what should be in our minds—we think we know how things should taste, smell, sound—and what you think you’re hearing is the sound that goes with this. I can hear it, too.
Millie thought she knew exactly what he meant. Like falling stars hissing across the sky, she said.
That’s right, said Jake. We only imagine we hear them.
By the light of the past, Millie could now see herself; see Jake, too, floating in a blue haze on the time-door’s threshold. And reaching down her free hand, she hesitated for a moment before passing it through the pure blue thread that connected her with her past. That thread was Millie; it was her very being—perhaps her soul? And she felt a vast sense of relief on recognizing its purity. Pure for now, anyway. But then, wonderingly, unable to resist, she looked at Jake’s metaphysical umbilical.
He was looking at it, too, staring at it. And before Millie could say anything:
When I came here with Harry, he said, my thread was as blue as yours. Was as blue as yours. And then he fell silent.
But didn’t we explain that? Millie said, her eyes like his, fixed on his life-thread, no longer entirely blue but tinted—tainted?—in its core with a single, thin, pale but undeniably red filament. Didn’t we tell you what Harry told us? That crimson stain is Korath. It’s the thing in your mind, Jake, trapped in your mind now. But it’s no more the real you than…than a metal filling in a tooth when it shows up on an X-ray plate.
Maybe, said Jake, but still it’s there, and it wasn’t there before. His thoughts were very grim now, half-convinced of something so monstrous it didn’t bear dwelling upon, so that Millie found herself seeking hard for a way to convince him otherwise, to try to dispel the worst of his fears.
When you get rid of him, she said, when Korath’s gone, that red stain will disappear with him. But:
No, said Jake, shaking his head. Back there at E-Branch HQ, you and Liz, and Goodly and Chung, you said Harry told you that it should disappear with Korath. And that’s if I can find a way to get rid of him. But meanwhile…how can I be sure that this is just Korath? You were there, Millie—down in that hellhole with me—and you saw Szwart’s mushrooms opening up, the spores set free to drift in that wind from the pit.
Yes! She turned to him, gripped his rough hard hand in both of hers. And I was there longer than you! I’d been at the mercy of that creature, and of his dwarfish, hunchback companion, yet my thread is blue. You can’t let this throw you, Jake. It’s not the end but simple proof of something we already knew: that you have this monster in your head. But now you’re controlling him, and not the reverse. He can’t touch you while he’s locked away. And you will find a way to be rid of him, I know you will.
She couldn’t be sure he’d been listening; his thoughts were somewhere else, working at something else. And finally he said: If I’m infected—I mean, if I did come too close down there in Szwart’s lair—then logically I might expect this red taint to be getting stronger, right?
I really don’t know, Millie answered.
And if it really is Korath, Jake went on, nothing more than that damned vampire Thing—his presence, his taint—then it must have started when I took him on board.
I suppose so, said Millie, wonderingly.
I have to know! said Jake. And there’s no time like now. Or rather there is time now: past time. Hold on to me.
Which was all the warning Millie got before he launched himself through the door and back along the past-time stream.
Jake! She clung for dear life, terrified as the blue streamers hurtled past her, like neon rocket exhausts but faster yet. For they were heading into the future while Millie was going in the opposite direction.
It’s okay, he told her. I only need relax my will and we’ll be pushed back the other way.
But…you’ve never done this before, have you?
No, he answered, but somehow—don’t ask me—it feels like I have. Harry’s legacy, I suppose.
Jake’s mind, his answers, felt rock solid, and likewise his grip on her. So that soon she was able to calm herself and look about. Then:
Oh! she said. These neon stars, suddenly bursting into life…they’re such a bright, beautiful blue.
Bursting into life, he repeated her. Yes, you’re absolutely right. Only they’re not stars. That’s childbirth you’re seeing. That separation from a more powerful neon source? It’s the moment the infant becomes a person in its own right. Another life-thread moving into its future.
She saw that now, and said, Which means that the ones that go dim and blink out…?
Right again, Jake said. And where they blink out en masse, in clusters, those are human disasters. Airplanes crash, bombs explode, buildings fall down, trains collide—whichever.
Just like that, she said. And:
That’s life, said Jake. And looking at her limned in humanity’s blue light, Why do you keep flinching?
I keep thinking I’ll collide with someone! she answered.
At which he had to smile, and said, But you can’t collide. This is a trail you’ve already walked. You’re simply walking it backwards—in your own footsteps, if you like.
But a moment (or an hour) later: Jake, Millie’s voice was a “gasp,” a mental exclamation, a warning. Red threads!
He saw them, too—many hundreds of them—expanding out of the past like a writhing horde of scarlet snakes and seeming to turn the entire horizon to blood. And there could be no mistaking the fact that as he “advanced” to meet them, so the scarlet vampire life-threads were closing in on him…
15
Problems Past, Present, and…?…Grave Conversations
FOR A MOMENT, TAKEN BY SURPRISE AND unable to explain the swift approach of the red threads, Jake shrank down into himself; and in the space of a heartbeat they were upon him!
Both Jake and Millie threw up their free hands to ward off the speeding horrors…only to see them blink (or indeed sink) out of existence even as they drew level. For it was only then, when he had the chance to think, that Jake understood what had happened.
It could only have been the Evening Star, he gasped. Another human disaster—or maybe I should say an inhuman one. But at least it tells us what to expect. Next up, we’ll be seeing Luigi Castellano and his creatures get theirs; followed by, or in real time “preceded” by, Malinari’s victims. That will be Jethro Manchester and his family, which was when I gave Korath his initial route of access to my mind. Huh! You know, I still can’t believe I did something like that, “of my own free will” Anyway, that’s what I’m here to check out. For if you and Harry and the others are right, that’s where my life-thread picked up
its additional splash of colour; but a purely mental thing, in no way physical. In which case I’ll begin to feel halfway safe again…but still only halfway.
Jake was right. In short order a further double-handful of red threads, some still showing traces of blue (for they’d only recently been recruited by Luigi Castellano to bolster his vampire forces) converged out of the neon haze of the past only to terminate in violent bomb-bursts as Jake drew level.
And now Jethro Manchester, Jake said, as he and Millie continued to plummet into the past. That poor old billionaire, and those other poor bastards on his vampire island.
Holding on tight, Millie said, And you say that’s where you agreed to let Korath into your mind? On Manchester’s island?
No, Jake shook his head. I didn’t actually let him in—but I did give him access. He could come to visit but I didn’t have to answer his knock, didn’t have to lay my soul bare to him, if you see what I mean. He didn’t reside in me just yet. That came later, after my showdown with Castellano. But Korath was creeping up on me, yes.
There was red up ahead, and Jake was slowing down now. And: Yes, I’ve actually seen how he has crept up on you, said Millie thoughtfully. Look—your thread is as blue as mine again!
She had no sooner “spoken” those words than the latest crimson arrivals, two of them, flared out of existence. And as Jake came to a halt he said, That was Manchester and the bastard who vampirized him, Martin Trennier. I was more than a little sorry to see Manchester go. He fought his contamination to the bitter end; knew he couldn’t win, but kept trying. As for the other: I didn’t give a shit for him!
Then, glancing at his blue thread, he went on: After they’d died, that was when I knew Liz was in trouble. I heard her telepathic call from Malinari’s casino, the Pleasure Dome in Xanadu. Up until then I was in the clear—in the black, you might say.
Or maybe the blue? said Millie.
He nodded. And that was when I did the deal with Korath. If I hadn’t, Liz was a goner. So if we move forward a ways—just a few seconds—from here…there! The first red tinge sprang into being, sullying his life-thread.
Then, turning around and looking to the future again, Jake said, So now you can see my problem. This is where I got myself contaminated, yes, but it’s obvious that the taint isn’t nearly so bad back here as it is forward of this point. Here the stain is barely visible. But as we move towards our own time—
—That’s when you’ll go from being in the blue to being in the red! Millie answered without a trace of humour. But Jake, I don’t think you could have been watching your thread as closely as I have. It’s possible I know why your taint gets stronger as we move forward into the future.
Oh?
Yes. I noticed it when you crossed swords with Castellano.
Now he frowned. When I crossed swords with…? What do you mean? What are you talking about? What did you notice?
Move forward, she said, excited now. Move forward in time, back toward the present—I mean our present—but this time keep your eyes on your thread.
He did as Millie suggested (which was in any case the only way to go), and soon found himself paralleled by converging red threads.
Castellano and his people—again, he said sourly.
Which was when I noticed something, Millie told him. Coming backwards in time, I saw some of the red go out of your thread! Which means that as we venture forward, this is where it should take on more colour!
Jake saw what she meant. Suddenly, the moment after Castellano’s gang exploded into scarlet bomb-bursts, the taint in his life-thread was a deeper, far more noticeable red. And he came to an abrupt halt as it dawned on him exactly what was happening here.
This was the second time Liz called for me, he said. But by now Korath knew my affections, that I’d risk almost anything to keep her from harm.
That was when she was under threat from Vavara, on Krassos, said Millie. And—
—And that was when I let Korath in all the way, Jake finished it for her. I had to. He had the equations to the Möbius Continuum. Well, so did I, but I didn’t know it. For every time I tried to use them without recourse to him—
—He interfered (Millie’s turn to cut in), causing you to think you couldn’t do it.
Jake nodded. So I let him in. It was this “deal” we had. He was only interested in “helping” me—helping us, E-Branch—to destroy Malinari, Vavara, and Szwart. And he said that after we had done that, then he’d go back down again, down into the true death in that sump under the Romanian Refuge. But…somehow I don’t think he will. He won’t go anywhere—not without I find a way to kick the bastard out!
And so you will, said Millie. But that’s not the point. The point is that the more Korath takes hold the more red gets into your life-thread. A metaphysical condition, yes, but that’s all it is. Physically, you aren’t affected—you aren’t infected!
Slowly nodding, Jake moved them forward again, back towards the NOW. And snorting derisively, he said, Now there’s a pleasant thought. The more this bastard encroaches on me, the redder I get!
But not any more, said Millie. And not in the blood or the flesh. Only in the mind. It’s his contamination, not yours. The reason we see it is just as I explained: it’s like a metal filling in a hollow tooth. We might even forget it’s there until it shows up on an X-ray. And when the tooth is pulled…?
And again Jake’s nod, as he answered, That’s a much happier thought. But it doesn’t change the fact that red is red. What I mean is, is my red all Korath, or is some of it something else? You see, I remember something left over from Harry; things that he knew keep coming back to me. For instance, I know how he got rid of Faethor.
You do?
Jake nodded. Yes. Harry had him cornered—just like I have Korath—trapped in his mind. But he tricked him into the open, where Faethor couldn’t hang on. Then he told him to leave, actually gave him a chance to go back down into his grave. Faethor refused, so Harry took him down a future time-stream. The Necroscope knew that he could come back; because he had a thread, he could “reel himself in”. But Faethor had no thread and was sent hurtling into the future down a Möbius time-stream. And for all I know he’s still going.
And Millie answered, Couldn’t you do the same with Korath?
Not a chance, said Jake. For Korath knows that story, too. He isn’t about to let himself get lured out of my mind! Anyway, that’s not the point. The point is that even after Harry dumped Faethor, still his thread was red…it must have been because by then he was a vampire, too. And I just can’t shake a certain picture I have in my mind: of Szwart’s lair and all those free-drifting spores…
Then, as a Möbius door loomed up out of future time, Millie said, Jake, what can I tell you? What more can I say other than I’ve already said? She shook her head. I can only state the one simple fact: that I was down there in the darkness, in Szwart’s dreadful fungus garden, a lot longer than you were. And I’m in the clear…
It was meant to reassure him but didn’t, not quite. But it was appreciated. And crossing the threshold to the NOW, floating in the Möbius Continuum, Jake said, Ben Trask is one lucky man to have someone like you by his side.
Why, thank you, said Millie. But I think we’re all far luckier to have you.
After a moment he answered, Let’s hope you are, anyway. And changing the subject: But now there’s something else I want you to see before I take you back.
Millie knew what it was—the only thing it could be—and might have protested. But they were already there.
A future-time door, she said, gazing out on the vastness of all the world’s tomorrows, the awesome expansion of humanity in the Möbius time-dimension: billions of blue streamers intertwining, thinning with distance, becoming a haze, like a faint blue wash on a cosmic canvas.
And that’s us, Jake said, as they stood on a very different threshold—indeed, the opposite of the first—but once again a door whose unseen frame could only be determined by the pano
ply sprawling beyond it. There go our life-threads into the future, our snail-trails in time. Out along there is the answer to everything.
Out along? said Millie.
It’s just a quirk of mine, he said. We have left and right, up and down, front and back, to and fro. But time travel…is something else. And “out along” is how I see it, that’s all.
Why not just forward? said Millie. It seems you’ve accepted backwards in time, so why not forward?
Backwards because it’s already happened, he replied. I mean because it’s history and immutable.
But isn’t the future also immutable? said Millie. According to Ian Goodly it is.
Maybe. Jake nodded. But where humankind has experienced the past, we’re not given to see the future. It’s a hill we haven’t climbed yet, untrodden ground.
Millie shivered then and said, We shouldn’t be doing this.
I know, said Jake. But I look at my polluted thread and I’m tempted to see if it’s going to stay red forever. You see, even now the future isn’t showing us everything. We’re only allowed to see so far ahead. We certainly can’t see forever.
Jake? She looked at him, and he saw her puzzled expression, her features picked out in neon blue. And:
Is that an hour we’re looking at? he asked her then. A day, a month, a year? Out along that thread of mine, the answers are waiting for me to catch up to them. But where other men have to wait it out, I can do it faster. I can travel faster than life!
Millie felt him preparing: his mind intent upon the future, his muscles bunching, and his figure leaning forward across the threshold. Another moment and Jake would be over that threshold heading “out along” the future time-stream. But: Don’t! she said. Or if you must go, then first return me to E-Branch HQ. I don’t want to know the future, Jake. The present has problems enough.
For what seemed like a long time he stood poised on the rim of the unknown, leaning forward at an ever-increasing angle, as if he’d heard nothing at all of what she’d said. Then he leaned back, regained his balance, and gave his head a wild shake as if to clear it. And as the tension gradually eased off—as Millie sensed his hesitation—so she was prompted to argue the point further. Ian Goodly thinks it’s a bad idea, Jake. And until now he’s rarely set a foot wrong. Hasn’t Harry Keogh himself warned us off the future? You know he has.
