Noah’s Brick © 2016 by Piers Anthony
A Smashwords Edition
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Noah
Noah stared at the brick. It was completely ordinary, reddish brown, seven and a half inches long, three and a half wide, two deep, with three holes through it. Exactly like the one he had just placed to block the gate closed. It was his afternoon chore to bike out to the open gate and prop it closed for the night.
But he had just done that. This was an extra brick. Where had it come from? He was sure it hadn't been there this morning when he had opened the gate.
Curious, he stepped across to it and picked it up. It weighed about three and a half pounds, as such a brick should, and was as hard as, well, as a brick. Completely ordinary, except that it was extra. Had someone dropped it off here, in case a spare might be needed? Who? No one cared about Noah's chore.
There was something else odd about it, nagging the fringe of his mind. He focused, and got it: this brick was identical to the one he had just placed. These bricks were crudely made, and the regular one had messed-up fringes at the edges of the holes, from when someone had removed it from the mold sloppily. No two were exactly alike, unless they had no imperfections. It didn't matter; each one would serve its purpose well enough. But the new one was a perfect copy of the old one, right down to the last hardened clay wrinkle. That was unlikely.
Noah turned it over, and gaped, startled. The other side had four holes. He turned it back: three holes, each going all the way through. Three and four, not seven. They did not seem to intersect each other. Was he seeing it wrong?
Noah had a mind that was easygoing, especially in school classes, so that his grades were low average. This annoyed his teachers, who knew he could do better if he simply paid attention. Attention to the utterly boring class material? But when something caught his fancy, he could not let go of it. Here was a mystery, something impossible, yet he held it in his hand.
How could there be three holes on one side, and four holes on the other side? Since all of them went all the way through, there should be seven, or at least four if they intersected. But there weren't. He found a small stick and poked it through the middle hole of the three. It went in, but it did not come out the other side. He let go of it and it dropped out of sight within the hole. That was almost scary!
Really curious now, he searched until he found a longer stick, an old branch four feet long, and poked that through. It went in until only the end he held remained. He pulled it slowly back out. It emerged, unchanged.
He nerved himself and tried one more thing. He poked his forefinger in. It was longer that two inches, so the tip should have emerged beyond the brick. It didn't. He wiggled it, but there was no resistance. He pulled it out again, his heart thudding. What had he expected: that it would get bitten off by some unseen thing beyond the brick?
There was another experiment he wanted to try: pouring water in. But he had no water. But he really wanted to know. So he looked around to make sure no one was near, then laid the brick on the ground, unzipped his pants, and urinated into the center hole. The stream splashed in and disappeared. When he was done he picked up the brick and turned it over. No liquid poured out. Wherever his pee had gone, it was not coming back.
It was getting late, and he had to get home before his mother missed him. But he didn't want to lose the mysterious brick. So he put it in his bike basket and pedaled home. He managed to sneak it into his room without anyone noticing, and he hid it under the bed. There was a lot more he wanted to know about this brick!
The routine took over. Noah had other chores and homework that he attended to in a daze. Maybe it was significant that no one seemed to notice his distraction. He was something of a loner, with no real friends. It wasn't that he was an unfriendly sort, but that ordinary things bored him. He lived in backwoods Vermont, the Green Mountains, and no matter how much the tourists loved them in winter, it was dull to live here year round. His real interests were deep underground, or in outer space, or through a dimensional wormhole leading to a fabulous alien realm. Anywhere but here! It wasn't that he was mistreated, just that he felt he didn't really belong. Home was just so—so ordinary.
Something nagged him about his chain of thought. He backed up and found it: wormhole. That was a scientific concept, the idea that there might be holes in space that led to places light years away, so that it might be possible to go there without being limited by the speed of light. Such holes, if they existed, might open up the universe to mankind. A person might jump to the far side of the galaxy, a hundred thousand light years away, and return with something rare and wonderful, and only a few minutes would have passed. He might even visit another galaxy, like Andromeda, and meet Andromeda herself, a ferociously regal queen whose crown was a ring of fire matching her eyes. What a girlfriend she would make, and what a dream!
Because of course in his dream Noah wasn't a blue-eyed, sandy-haired averaged-sized boy of eleven. He was a handsome muscular man of twenty two with a certain way about him that impressed and intrigued lovely women, even queens.
Was the hole in the brick a small black hole?
He doubted it, but wasn't sure. What was a real black hole like?
He dug the brick out from under his bed. There were the holes, three on one side, four on the other. If the center one was a black hole, what about the others?
He tried to sight through a hole, but there was only darkness. The others were the same. Did that mean it was night there, the same as here, or that there was no light in that place? Well, he would have to try it again in daylight.
He slept well, to his surprise. Instead of disturbing him, the mystery of the brick excited him. It gave him something really interesting to explore. That lent interest to his own life.
In the morning he was too busy with chores to even check the brick. He biked out to open the gate, leaving the brick under his bed. No one would find it there; no one cared what was in his room. No one really cared about Noah, for that matter. Except maybe Mom, but she didn't count; she was part of the package. He was nothing, in a nothing family in a nothing world.
Would there be another brick by the gate? There wasn't. He was foolishly disappointed. It seemed it was a one-time deal. Not that he could do anything more with two bricks than with one, other than be mystified and seriously intrigued.
School was routine. Nobody noticed him, as usual, not that he cared. All he wanted to do was get home to his brick. He realized with a certain faint bemusement that he cared more about the brick than about most people he knew.
Finally he was home, and it was still daylight. He brought out the brick and sighted through its holes, all of them, on both sides.
There was light beyond the cente
r hole. The one he had peed through. Light!
He tried to sight through the hole, to see what was on the other side, but it was just light without definition. Then he tried moving the brick around, angling it slightly down—and got a picture.
And lost it. He aimed the brick again, finding the spot. It looked like—a planet. Could that be? It was roughly northwest of here.
The decision was easy: tomorrow he would go there, if it wasn't too far. Adventure was beckoning.
Next day was Friday. That meant he didn't have to do homework, and could take more time to follow the brick. He donned hiking boots and jeans in case he had to forge through rough country, and took along a compass and a knife, just in case. There were bears, for example; they never bothered people, but there was always the chance of an exception.
He biked out, taking the brick along. He closed the gate. Now he was free!
He held up the brick and sighted through the center hole. He found the light, then the planet. And realized something: he could make out oceans and continents on it. Asia. Africa. It was Earth! As seen from outer space. It must be an observation station.
How could he possibly reach it by foot? The thing was looking from thousands of miles in space.
Well, there must be something he could reach. He would find out what.
Naturally the direction was into the deepest forest, trackless. But maybe he didn't have to plow through the worst of it. He could pick a feasible route, avoiding mischief, then reorient with the brick and get back on track.
Too bad he couldn't ride his bike. There was just too much cross-country terrain to get through. He parked his bike out of sight, and started walking.
It wasn't bad, actually. He was able to follow a fairly straight course, guiding around trees and thick brush, then sighting through the brick to reorient on his target. It was like following a path, only he got to choose the details of the path himself.
Soon the globe was looking closer, looming larger in the hole. How could that be? Was he somehow traversing space to zoom in on the planet as he walked? Yet he was already on Earth. This did not seem to make much sense. Unless the brick had some very special power.
Noah paused, pondering that. He knew the brick was remarkable because of its logic-defying holes. Maybe some other boy might never have noticed, because it wasn't obvious from a casual glance, but he knew his own mind was different. That was part of why he was a loner. He was no scientist, but he was pretty sure that no science on Earth could account for those holes. This had to be an alien brick, and that was so significant that his mind balked at the implications. Probably he should take the Brick—he was now mentally capitalizing it--to the authorities.
He shook his head. He had had more than enough of the attitude of the local authorities, who considered children to be mostly beneath notice. Children should be seen and not heard? They didn't much want to see them either. They would take the brick away, and he would never see it again, and nothing would come of it anyway. If by some miracle the Brick made the news, it was pretty sure that Noah would not get the credit for finding it. Why should he? He was a child.
No, if anyone was to fathom the full nature and meaning of the Brick (and get the credit), it had to be Noah himself. He had the time, the interest, and possession of the Brick. That counted for a lot.
Okay, then: did the Brick have other qualities he was missing because he hadn't thought to look for them? Such as what? It was time to find out.
Well, the thing was heavy to carry constantly. Three and a half pounds wasn't much to pick up, but holding it constantly out before him was tiring. Could he make it lighter? That would really help.
He concentrated. Brick, get light, he thought.
Nothing happened.
Well, it wasn't as if he had really expected it to. Still, its shape was awkward too; it would be nice if he could somehow stretch and bend it around to form a heavy belt.
Brick, stretch, he thought, pulling at its ends.
And it stretched.
Noah stared at it. Now the thing was half again as long as it had been, and thinner through, as if it were a big blob of taffy that could elongate when stressed. It still had the holes. That was the thing about topology: an object could change its shape, but not its nature. Whatever shape the Brick got twisted into, it would still have three holes on one side and four on the other. He thought.
Well, now. He stretched it some more, until it was close to three feet long, and only about a quarter its former thickness. Like an odd belt.
Bend, he thought, and wrapped it around his waist. Stiffen, and it hardened in place so it would stay. That made it much easier to carry. It remained heavy, but no longer tired his arm.
But there was a problem: he could no longer sight through the center hole to make sure he remained on course. If he could do it at all, it would be like sighting through his belly button. Okay, then. He focused, and formed it into a massive bracelet around his right wrist. The holes were still there, though four of them were now inside the bracelet, out of sight. He raised his hand and sighted through the center hole, and saw right through his arm to the planet. Cool! Weird but cool.
He made his way on through the forest. Now he was on a slope, which was not surprising as this region was mostly slope. Was wherever he was going at the top of a mountain? It couldn't be high enough to show the whole globe of the world. Yet the picture inside the hole kept getting larger.
He circled a large old maple tree and went on. And the picture was gone. There was just blankness. What had happened?
He turned around, searching, and found it. Directly behind him. In the tree? He walked around it, and that seemed to be the case. How could the world be inside a single maple tree?
“Mine not to reason why,” he said, adapting a line from a poem he had read in class, The Charge Of The Light Brigade, by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Not that he cared about poetry. “Mine but to do or die.” Not that he would ever find himself in such a heroic but tragic charge. It seemed that someone had blundered, and sent the brigade into the jaws of death. A typically adult mistake.
He knocked on the trunk of the tree. And found himself inside an alien chamber. It resembled nothing so much as the hold of a ship. This was amazing, and scary. But also highly intriguing. He felt a great joy of wonder. He liked it here, and wanted to stay. This had the feeling of home.
What had happened? Surprised and awed, he stepped back—and was back outside the tree.
He had touched the tree, and found himself inside it—in a room far larger than the diameter of the trunk. Was it possible to make sense of this?
He touched the tree again, and was inside again. His emotion flared; it was as if he was returning to his most dearly beloved home after long absence. Which was of course ridiculous, since he had been away only a few seconds. But his state was intense.
His own foolish reactions scared him. He wasn't like this. He was a sensible boy with big dreams he knew were just imagination. It was as if he had taken a mood altering drug. He did not trust that at all.
He stepped back again, and was out again.
Noah's feelings were in a continuing turmoil. Rather than risk the tree once more, he decided to head for home. It was getting late, and he didn't want to be missed and have to answer awkward questions.
Worse, he didn't want to try to answer his own questions. Had he suffered a hallucination? He couldn’t actually have stepped into a tree that was more like at alien ship inside, could he?
Could he?
Si
Noah struggled with his amazement and doubt for several days. There was no help for it: he had to go back to the maple tree. To the mysterious ship-like room with the strange appeal. To find out what it was all about. The prospect frightened him, but also invigorated him. He had always craved adventure, but this was hardly like diving into a fantasy wormhole and meeting Queen Andromeda. This was more like falling into a dark cave without knowing its dangers. He wished he could tell someone abou
t it, but he didn't dare. There was no one he could really trust for something like this. Certainly not his bully of a big brother or his nosy little sister. He had had to hide the Brick to be sure they didn't find it in his room. It had reverted to its original brick form when he took it off, but it wasn't beyond one of his siblings to steal it just because he had it.
Monday, school let out early for some obscure reason. He had a couple of chore-free hours he hadn't expected. This was his chance to go to the tree and find out what was what, while nobody knew he was gone.
When the school bus dropped him off, he wasted no time. He fetched the Brick from its hiding place in the tangle of vines just beyond the gate, shaped it into the heavy bracelet, and forged through the forest. He made good progress because this time he knew where he was going; he used the Brick only for occasional verification. The tree really wasn't very far away.
Noah paused before the tree. Could there really be a room inside its trunk? Or was it an illusion fostered by the Brick? Some trick of light that made the ordinary forest floor seem like the inside of a ship? Or pure imagination? Why did it attract him so strongly? He couldn't be quite sure he wasn't losing his mind.
Well, he could find out. He took off the Brick and set it on the ground, where it became brick-like. Then he knocked on the tree trunk.
Nothing happened. It was just a solid old maple tree.
He picked up the brick and held it as he approached the tree again. He knocked. And found himself inside. So it was the Brick that did it, and it did actually happen.
He felt the strange euphoria again. He loved this place! He knew nothing about it, but it was as if it had always been his destiny.
He set the Brick down on the wooden board floor, then touched the wall behind him. It was solid, with no exit. Then he picked the Brick up again and touched the wall, and was back out in the forest. Again, it was the Brick that made it happen.
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