Pascale's Wager: Homelands of Heaven

by Anthony Bartlett

  Palmiro redoubled his efforts, placing the drops from the flasks on the little platform, sealing the crystallization chamber, calibrating the temperature, hoping for the crystals to form. Slowly he began to get results, one or two crystal formations, which he then placed in the X ray device to produce a reading. He pored over the data on the computer. In a matter of an hour his long efforts paid off: he found some very close matches and the compound began to reveal the secret of its chemical composition. All that was missing was the overall formula, and its absence from the journals would make sense if Adorno alone had devised it.

  He guessed that part of the final compound was a powerful signaling ability which made sure the enzyme communicated with every cell in the body without fail. This had to be Adorno's major contribution, a way to make the restorative enzyme a foolproof messenger to the whole organic system. Palmiro at once recognized that if so all that would be necessary would be to disrupt this signaling somehow and immortality would collapse like a house of cards.

  He threw himself even more fiercely into the study of the enzyme. If he was able to splice to it other chemical sequences there would be the possibility of disrupting or blocking the signals. This then would be his path of work, introducing the new reagents and observing the results under the microscope.

  He had not seen Adorno for over thirty days. His mentor had totally disappeared after revealing the Hyperbrain. But Palmiro didn't really care. He was consumed with the incredible challenge the teacher had set him. More than once he felt he was talking to Adorno in his head, or thinking his thoughts, even that he was Adorno himself. Of course he knew this was not true, but the feeling had somehow become part of him as he pursued the endless research. Now at last he was closing on his quarry and the immense excitement of the chase filled his every moment, driving everything else from his mind. He had taken to sleeping in the laboratory on a couch and having his food delivered by Max. He was glued to the electron microscope watching the communication of the super-enzyme with living cells.

  It was a fascinating process taking place in several steps that were always the same. Every time the cell reacted with the enzyme molecule it would seem almost to quiver and vibrate with new energy and life. He added chemicals that bonded to the surface of the enzyme to see if they could prevent the process. However, the communication between the cell and the immortality agent always seemed to override them, somehow ignoring the shield. Again and again he tried new reagents, staying up past midnight to produce just one more bonding, or getting up before the dawn because he had thought of another possibility. Nothing seemed to work, but he did not give up.

  One late afternoon he was sitting at the microscope keeping an eye on the latest combination. He was watching the slow tango of the enzyme and the cell, and as always he was hoping for it to trip on the alien factors he had put in there. Suddenly, a thrill ran through his body and his heart began to pound. Something absolutely amazing was happening. At first it seemed that the interaction of the cell and the molecule had succeeded as always, that the cell had absorbed the enzyme. But then there seemed to be something different. The cell did not seem to quiver with life but to droop and lose its shape. After a moment the whole cell broke apart and clearly died, and then the most astonishing thing appeared. As the cell broke up small pod-like pieces burst from it and proceeded quickly to enter new healthy cells and at once the same process was repeated. He was used to the formation of new cells through splitting but that normally took over an hour to happen. Now it was as if someone was taking a saw and cutting through the cell in seconds, releasing the attacking organisms.

  It was a multiplying explosion, the creation of a whole new race of agents that moved directly to destroy other cells. He flinched and recoiled from the microscope, as if this thing was about to attack him physically. Gingerly he put his eyes back to the viewer and he could see everything continuing to happen, a terrible expanding army was on the move. He had no idea how it had happened or what the body would do to cope. It seemed clear that the process was so rapid it could easily overwhelm the immortality effect in an individual organism. He had created a catastrophe: instead of discovering a way to prevent the enzyme working, he had turned it into an agent of its own destruction.

  He was in a state of shock, but he knew he had to treat this thing with the utmost respect, to contain it, but also to preserve it. After sitting there for a few moments he got up and prepared a culture dish with more of the original liquid. Putting on rubber gloves and opening the viewing chamber, he carefully tipped the sample into the dish and then sealed it airtight. He put the tray into his fridge, threw his gloves in the trash and left the building. It was almost dark.

  He returned to his annex and immediately downed half a bottle of wine that was sitting there on the counter. He pulled off his cotton tunic and plunged in the shower, remaining under the warm downpour for thirty minutes. Already half asleep he stumbled to his bed and collapsed unconscious for several hours. In the middle of the night, in a single moment he was awake, staring blindly at the ceiling. The exploding army of cells marched across his vision, a terrifying monster that only he knew. He gazed at this thing that he had released into the world.

  The true face of nature, he thought. It is the world of the storms, simply at the microscopic level, and what is the barrier that can be created against it? The refrigeration zone and the wretched life of the Teppers serve no purpose. Heaven itself is defenseless. The philosophers and Sarobindo, they have no idea. They think they have everything perfectly in order and can look at each other and hear their voices speaking stupidities forever. Adorno was right, they are children playing at immortality. He felt an overwhelming, astonishing sense of power. He held onto it and it held onto him. He was a creature transformed.

  Right there and then he seemed to make up his mind. He did not know exactly what he would do, but he was certain he would do something. It was inevitable given everything that had happened to him, everything he knew. Yet there was one last task he had to complete before he threw the switch. He had to find Pascale and set her free. He sat up on his bed and realized abruptly he was suffering a splitting headache. He stumbled out to the kitchen and found pills Adorno had provided for just these occasions. Downing four he returned to bed. Very shortly after he fell asleep.

  11. DETECTIVE WORK

  Danny took to riding Stardust around Heaven. He would rise early, pack food and drink, saddle up and leave. He had no particular plan. He simply felt happier to be on the move with Stardust. And she loved it too. She got used to him arriving in the early morning for the daily outing, pricking her ears up and knocking the stable door with her hooves. He would bring her a treat, an apple or carrot, and she would munch away and look at him out of the corner of her eye as he cinched the saddle. Then they would head off, a pair of outlaws somehow within the law.

  At first he had no direction to follow, simply wandering wherever fancy took him, or his horse. But little by little a pattern began to form, either in his mind or in Stardust's he could not be sure. He was beginning to get a clearer idea of the geography of Heaven, of how the land lay, from the scrub desert in the western corner, through the steady rise of the broad central plateau, up to the encircling hills in the north, and then back again to the southern edge where the hills broke away into a chaos of canyons. As he went on it was increasingly evident that he and his mount were mapping the territory, getting to know it, progressively moving through its divisions from east to west, north to south. He was getting to know where all the colonies were, area by area, and how the terrain folded and unfolded around them. He was becoming acquainted with the landscape of Heaven.

  People did not take much notice of him, especially if he passed by only once, a lone rider drifting through the endless day of Heaven. At the Zoo Colony Eboni covered for him, delighted her idea of getting him a horse had worked and hoping this long soaking up of the sights of Heaven would bring him to a better place. Yet Danny was really nowhere near finding
inner tranquility. Something continued to drive him forward, and when he had come close to knowing all the populated areas of Heaven, he turned in a different direction. He and Starlight began to wander south into the canyons, to the forbidding badlands below.

  As they ventured down the corkscrew track from the plateau he rapidly discovered how alien this terrain was. Either the ravines were roasted by the sun and their heat unbearable, or the shadows filled them and they became cold and threatening. Once or twice he had mistaken the route and only found his way back because he gave Stardust her head and trusted her to get him home. One day on his second or third trip down he pulled Stardust up and stood there under the fortress walls with the desert juniper and cactus sprouting from cracks and tiny ledges. Every surface was baking and the light sliced the air like a hatchet. He shielded his eyes and admitted aloud to himself that he was looking for his sister here in this wilderness. “Cal, Pascale, whatever your name is, you’re down here somewhere, I'm sure of it. What do you say, Stardust?”

  The Arab responded to his voice and tossed her splendid white head in front of him.

  “I take that as a yes. But how are we ever going to find her? Sure as heck, they left no signposts down here.”

  He looked up and down the broiling corridor with its maze-like breaks, angles and dead-ends: and he decided. “We need help, Stardust, we can't do this on our own. I think we have to go talk to someone and I think it has to be that guy, Jonas. He's definitely got my sister's back. And if anyone has a chance of knowing where this God-forsaken prison camp is, it's going to be someone in the History Colony like him.”

  He pulled the horse around and headed back along the harsh, steep track to the plateau. It always took hours to get back and horse and rider were as usual spent at the end of the climb. They both needed to rest. He decided they would ride out to see Jonas the next day.

  When he got back to the colony Eboni had news which interrupted his plans.

  “That guy you knew back in the North, the one with Adorno, he came over today. Palmiro, isn't it? He wants to talk. He said he'd be coming back tomorrow.”

  “Wow, that's a first! I can’t imagine what he'd want with me. Did he say?”

  “No, just that he needed to talk. He looked terrible. Like he hadn't slept or eaten properly for weeks.”

  “Well, something must be up. He's never wanted to talk to me before. I guess I better hang around for him then.”

  When Palmiro turned up the following day even Eboni's description wasn't enough to prepare Danny. He was used to Palmiro having a strange look, but now it was as if he had become a different person. He had lost weight and his face was drawn and unshaven, but it wasn't just that. Unlike his previous impatient and distracted attitude he was now controlled and focused. Danny was actually impressed. He thought perhaps Adorno had really helped him. As they talked he felt Palmiro seemed to have moved beyond all of them. It was similar to the experience of talking with Pascale, but different again.

  “It's good this activity of yours, Danny, horse-riding. It's a healthy way to spend time and will prove very useful. What I need to talk to you about is your sister, Pascale. I am sure you're just as unhappy about the decision of the authorities as I am. Perhaps you have actively considered doing something to help her. I would like to know what it is, and whether I can assist you in any way.”

  The matter-of-fact tone of the question—which just happened to be against the whole way of thinking in Heaven—astonished Danny. All he could do was agree, and say, just as matter-of-factly, that he had been spending time looking for Pascale down in the canyons.

  “But they're impossible to penetrate if you don't know where you're going. They're hot and grueling and it's terribly easy to get lost. I was thinking actually of going to ask Jonas for help.”

  “Actually that's a good idea. Jonas loves her and will want to help. If he knows anything he will definitely tell us. But why do you believe the canyons are the place where the colony for anti-socials is?”

  “Well, people generally point in that direction and anyway that's where we ended up, Stardust and me. We trekked all over Heaven and I never had the slightest feeling she was anywhere around. It's only when we went down to the canyons, I just got a really strong sense she was there.”

  “I would trust your judgment, Danny. But if she is down there I want to go with you to find her. I also will need to ride a horse. Do you think that's possible?”

  “Sure it is. We have horses here for new riders. That's just how I started!”

  Palmiro said he wanted to begin right away. Danny took him out to the stables and introduced him to the bay. He tied the saddle on and helped Palmiro mount up. He led him out behind Stardust so he could get used to the motion. Palmiro kept asking him questions, about the correct way to sit, where to put his knees, and what were the signals to give to the horse. Danny answered his questions and little by little Palmiro relaxed so he was able to take the reins and walk on his own. Danny told him to advance to a trot and he did so, bouncing around in an ungainly fashion but basically staying upright. After that Palmiro pulled up and said this was enough for the moment and they should take the car and go visit Jonas.

  “You want to go now, with me?”

  “Yes, if you don't mind. I would like to get Pascale's situation resolved as soon as possible.”

  They stabled the horses, cleaned up, and took refreshments of tea and bolillos. Then Palmiro drove his car to where Jonas lived. The journey took over two hours, winding along the foothills with their clustered oak and mesquite and the colonies in the watered folds surrounded by plantations and crops. On the way Palmiro asked Danny how he had adjusted to the experience of Heaven and immortality.

  “What do you mean, adjusted?”

  “You know, what are your feelings about being here in Heaven?”

  “No one asked me that question before, not even Eboni. I suppose the idea is you have to love it. The truth is, I was loving it, before the thing with Pascale happened. Since then I've been in a kind of dream, waiting for something else to happen.”

  “What do you mean? What are you waiting for?”

  “I don’t know. It's just a feeling. It can't be right that Pascale is locked up forever. And for what? What did she do wrong? I suppose that's it really. I’m waiting for something to happen for Pascale. What about you? What do you feel about Heaven?”

  “I don't think I've ever been in Heaven, if you see what I mean. This place has always been the same to me as the Northern Homeland. I see no real difference.”

  “You've got to be kidding. They're about as different as they could be. Don't you remember the vicious cold, and those miserable TEPs we lived in? And all the stupid religion?”

  “I've not forgotten a thing. But you have forgotten who put all that together, who created it. The same people who live here, the pioneers, the Immortals.”

  “But they had to do it. There was no other way. You have to admit that.”

  “There's always another way.”

  Danny looked over at Palmiro. “Maybe. But you came here, didn't you? You got the one-way ticket to immortality.”

  “Did I? Perhaps it's not such a one-way ticket.”

  “Talking like that, you know, you're beginning to scare me.”

  Palmiro showed no reaction and he continued to stare ahead at the road. They were now very close to Jonas' colony and they dropped their conversation. As they drew into the compound at the back of the villa the place looked deserted. They got out of the car and knocked on the main door, but there was no reply. They went around the side of the house, hallooing to attract attention. At last Masharu appeared at French windows inside an arbor. She was annoyed and suspicious.

  “What is it? Why are you shouting like this?”

  “We're looking for Jonas,” Danny replied.

  “He's not here. He's gone for a walk. Who are you?”

  “I am Pascale's brother, Danny. And this is Palmiro. Which way did Jonas go?”


  “I hope you are not going to create any more trouble for him. He’s had more than enough.” All the same she pointed, “He might be out on the hill somewhere. He spends a lot of time out there.”

  She was gesturing to the front of the house to where the hill fell away among rows of vines surrounded by chamise and stands of oak. They made their way out onto the slope, over the ocher ground. Danny kept calling, “Hey, Jonas, are you out here?”

  A white robed figure appeared a couple of hundred yards away close to a buttress of rock, looking up at them. They hurried down, leaping in their sandals across the hillside. The figure stood there waiting and as they got closer they could see it was certainly Jonas. If Palmiro had changed, the historian was a mere shadow of his former self. His face was storm-washed and his body lacked any vitality. He did not raise a hand in greeting and his expression did not alter to greet them. Danny was ahead but he waited for Palmiro to catch up. For a few seconds they all three stood there. Finally Palmiro spoke.

  “Jonas, we've come to talk with you.”

  He did not reply. He continued looking at them, expressionless. Danny went up to him and put his hand on his arm. “Are you O.K., buddy?”

  The touch seemed to revive Jonas, as if out of a dream. “Oh, yes, Danny, Palmiro, it's good to see you.”

  “How've you been?”

  “Well, not quite myself. Which is really not the thing to say in Heaven, is it? I spend a lot of time out here, sitting under my rock, trying not to think at all.” And he indicated a space around in front of the rock, a kind of natural seating overlooking the valley.

  Palmiro stepped in, putting his face directly in front of Jonas.

  “Well we need you to start thinking, and thinking for yourself. We want to rescue Pascale from wherever they've taken her and we're asking for your help.”