Pascale's Wager: Homelands of Heaven

by Anthony Bartlett

  Omar's constant harassment of Pascale still had not brought a response. She continued to look straight ahead with a tense but steady gaze. Omar continued to enjoy himself famously, but Stavros was increasingly uneasy when she showed no sign of giving in. He rode up beside her and said that this didn't have to happen. All she had to do was give some indication of how to find Palmiro, or of someone else who might know…something, anything. She remained steadfastly silent. He insisted the whole thing was way out of hand, that he didn't think Pascale should have been sentenced to the canyons, it was just a mistake. Definitely the whole idea itself of the canyon needed reform. Immortals were not meant to attack Immortals and the sooner that was established the sooner they could all get back to enjoying Heaven the way it was intended. She did not respond. Omar laughed and leered.

  “No luck, eh, Stavros? Don't worry, once she smells the Font Eterno, she'll break. She won't want to become just a hint in the overall bouquet. Will she, O Queen of Heaven?”

  They had made their way past the museums and libraries and were now in sight of the Babylonian gate. The crowd let out a cheer and the atmosphere became actually festive, as if they were going directly to find a solution to the epidemic. They passed inside and straightaway they saw nobody alive but bodies scattered around in the courts of the Taj Mahal and on the roadside. A few raised their sleeves to cover their mouths and many ripped strips from their robes to make masks, but no one lost their nerve. They were all in a strange exalted state, as if having Pascale in their power and bringing her steadily toward the Font Eterno granted a magical barrier against infection. Even Stavros was emboldened to ride in front without shrinking from the scenes of death all around.

  They passed the giant pagoda with its magnificent blood-red roof and were now under the Khalifa. As always, the crowd threw their heads back to view the summit of the tower soaring up in the blue abyss. This time, however, they could not clearly see the top. The thin brown haze had thickened and they could only see through it dimly, uncertainly. It suggested the terrible threat that Heaven was under but it did not dint the crowd's spirits. It served only to stoke their fury, increasing their desire to carry this thing through to its end.

  Omar kept up his taunts. “You don't think you're going to escape, do you? That somehow at the last minute we'll all stop, or some superhero will come rescue you? Don't kid yourself. These people here, they want your blood, and they'll get it too. So, surely now lover-girl, you have something to say?”

  Still she said nothing.

  The procession was passing between the Eiffel Tower on one side and the Sagrada Familia on the other and suddenly Pascale did speak. She said, “Omar, you have no idea what you are doing. Whatever happens to me, the sun will still rise, and, yes, the wind will blow, and love will never have an end.”

  Omar momentarily lost his spiteful confidence. “What? What are you saying? Are you for real?”

  Pascale said nothing more. After blustering a bit Omar got his edge back. “You know, I thought perhaps we could have some fun together, before the night was over. But now you're just disgusting to me. I'm going to put you straight in the cooker.”

  They'd arrived at the park and the race course bordered by its grassy bank. Up beyond loomed the Font Eterno perched on its reflecting lake. Its luminous skin had been shut down and the afternoon sun glittered harshly across its huge dead bulk. Notices had been placed all over the grassy expanse, warning people to keep out by strict order of the authorities. Omar jumped from the utility car and shouted to the agents, “Get her off the horse and tie her hands.” Then he swung himself up on the roof of the cabin and yelled to the crowd.

  “This is her last chance. She can tell us where to find the mastermind behind the infection, or she can die as its provocateur!”

  The crowd already in its heightened state roared in answer to his words. A shout went out, “The Sea of Chaos!” and it was taken up by everyone, “Sea of Chaos. Sea of Chaos!” Stavros came forward and ordered Pascale to dismount. She leaned out of the saddle and dropped to the ground. Ryker brought some rope and Stavros held her hands behind her back while he bound them. Stavros then faced her and without realizing the irony of his words he said, “For heaven's sake give us information, and all this will finish at once.”

  Pascale did not reply, but looking at no one she raised her voice for all to hear. “I am innocent of anyone's death, but if I must die you should know, I believe it is right that Heaven falls and by its own design, so that love may arise!”

  There was a moment of silence and then Omar seized on her words. “What more do we need to hear? She is behind this, she has willed Heaven's fate. The Sea of Chaos for her, the Sea of Chaos!”

  The crowd bellowed back the chant. “Sea of Chaos, Sea of Chaos!”

  Omar jumped down and shoved Pascale forward. “Walk,” he commanded, pushing her up the bank toward the Font Eterno. The crowd surged after them. Two people grabbed her arms on either side and surrounded by the press of bodies she was half carried, half propelled toward the huge belly of the globe. Omar turned and shouted to Ryker. “Ride ahead, to the control room. Get that particle machine powered up. Go!”

  4. CANYON THUNDER

  “They said ‘infection,’ there was an infection?”

  “Yes, you could see they were blown away by it. They really didn't want to handle things at the Ranch, even though Magus was dead. They were so obsessed with what was happening back in Heaven. They couldn't even think straight about finding you.”

  “But who was infected? And what was it, did they describe it?”

  Jonas and Danny were in the fortress camp relating the events of the previous day. They had arrived late in the afternoon and scaled the hogback to find Eboni keeping watch and Palmiro sleeping, rolled up in a blanket. Eboni and Danny were overjoyed seeing each other and hugged and kissed happily. Palmiro woke with the clatter of the horses entering the enclosure. He sat up slowly, saying he felt a little better. He asked what had happened. Had there been a visit from the authorities to the canyon? They told him the agents had come, but because of the infection, not because of Magus. At first he didn't understand what they were saying but when they repeated themselves he cast around desperately and began to fire questions at them. They said that Sarobindo and his disciples and some people from Anthropology had got this thing and, according to the report to Anthropology, the master and disciples had looked little better than corpses.

  Whatever color there’d been in Palmiro’s face was now gone. Jonas saw his expression and said, “This was not your plan, then? Your bright idea to bring Heaven down?”

  “No, no, nothing like it. Originally I was going to put it in the water-supply, for direct ingestion, but Pascale, she was against it. And I decided myself not to do it. At the Font Eterno I thought only Sarobindo would be affected. And that would be enough!”

  His studies in biology were passing like frames from a film before his mind's eye, the intense absorbing journey he had made through cellular research to the sudden devastating discovery of the anti-enzyme. Everything had been science, with the single goal of a chemical signal to turn off the effect of the enzyme. Never had he thought of a communicable sickness. But it was obvious: the moment he’d seen the anti-enzyme at work, he should have known he was witnessing the most virulent of organisms, intensely communicable. How stupid he’d been! Thinking of it now he also realized the casualties would not be limited to the ones reported. It was highly probable the organism had got beyond the Font Eterno the very first night.

  Danny broke in and even as he did Palmiro was also anticipating the next thing he was going to hear, his greatest fear about to be confirmed. “You've not heard the worst. They have taken Pascale for questioning. They think she'll lead them to you.”

  He had completely miscalculated. He'd believed the single death of Sarobindo would provoke a widespread re-examination of the whole idea of Heaven, along the lines Adorno wanted. Now instead there were multiple deaths, and of co
urse the people from Anthropology were looking for answers and had made the standard connection from him to Pascale. Once more she was going to take the blame for him, and this time much, much worse.

  “We have to rescue her. We have to get her back.”

  Danny looked at him glumly. “They were carrying guns and were in no mood to argue. I had to hide, or they would have taken me too. Magada opened fire on them when they were leaving and they killed her. I think we'd have very little chance of carrying out any kind of rescue in Heaven.”

  Eboni broke in, “Well, at last you've gotten some sense, Danny. Between you all you’ve brought the world crashing down. Don't think you're going to put it back together anytime soon!”

  “That's about right,” Jonas said. “If you didn't plan it, Palmiro, it doesn't matter. It's happened, and they'll be out for blood. Even if you were to give yourself up, there'd be no mood for mercy. And there's something else you should know. I don't understand it but Pascale actually wanted to go with them. She said her agreement to go had kept the peace, and it did, more or less. After that she wanted to get the agents away from the Ranch, to protect it from another Magus. You know we had just been betrothed in a beautiful ceremony, and she was wearing the most beautiful wedding dress. But despite all that she seemed ready and willing to go.” He added ruefully, but without bitterness, “There always was a part of her that could never belong to me.”

  Palmiro stood up and paced around between the horses and the rocks, with his friends looking on. His lungs had suffered strain; he could only take shallow breaths; and he was still very tired.

  “Regardless of whether they have mercy or not, I've got to go. I've got to find where she is, to talk to her. I’ve got to let her know all this was not my plan. But I also really need rest. I have to wait one more day.”

  He turned to Jonas. “It may be true, a part of her will never belong to you. But you still owe it to her to find her. You have the advantage of being able to move around freely. You will have to be very careful of the infection, but that could also help. People will not be out in crowds.”

  Jonas didn't say anything, staring at the ground. At length he nodded, “It's true, Palmiro. I owe Pascale. But I must do it also for my own sake.”

  Palmiro explained as best he could about the anti-enzyme, the way it destroyed cells programed by the original enzyme but did not affect chronologically young people. He had experienced no ill effects from the exposure, only the strain of exerting himself under water. That meant Danny couldn't get it. And it turned out that Eboni too had arrived fairly recently. She had been a gymnastics star, she said, along with Omar in Sector Eight, and had been inducted something like fifteen years ago. Palmiro said certainly she too would be immune. As for Jonas, well, he had to be very careful. In fact he should wear a mask at all times. Right there they made him a good one, a square of cloth torn from his undershirt, running from the bridge of his nose and under his chin and double tied at the back of his head.

  Jonas said he would waste no time but head off at once. He packed supplies and some of the water they had brought from the Ranch, and arranged a meeting place with Palmiro, at the last turn in the track before the plateau. He would be there tomorrow in the afternoon and would bring him any news he had gathered. Everyone inside the rock fortress was so concentrated on their talk that they had not noticed the skies darkening overhead. Just as Jonas was about to mount up, they heard a terrifying noise which Palmiro, Danny and Eboni had never heard before and Jonas only a long time ago. It reminded the northerners of some of the sounds in the Presentations back in the Sectors, but they had never once heard it in the open. They all gave a start and the horses shied instinctively. Jonas went running through the gap in the rocks out to the ridge to stare across the canyons. They followed him and he pointed.

  “There, look, look!” And for the first time they saw a bundle of clouds like a big ugly mountain above the northern tableland and surrounded by the normally blue sky of Heaven tinged in a yellow haze.”

  “It's thunder, and rain clouds. That's impossible!”

  Palmiro said, “The Weather Shield, something's happened! My God!”

  “Holy shit!” gasped Danny.

  Eboni said, “For sure, the world is crashing down.”

  There was a flash and another boom and rumble came rolling down from the plateau, falling and bouncing in the canyons. The younger people had never witnessed anything like this and Jonas himself had forgotten the brute strength of a thunderstorm. They could see the sheet of rain emptying from the dark cloud across the territory of Heaven. They watched it tracking toward the east and could almost feel the shocking impact as it hit the stone and marble of downtown.

  “Who would have believed this, at the same time as the infection? It's like it was planned.”

  "You're not saying Palmiro made this happen too, are you?”

  Eboni was joking with Danny, but before he could reply, Palmiro said matter-of-factly, “Actually it could have been me, at least in part...” And he told them briefly about Guest and how he had gotten him access to the live monitoring of the refrigeration system.

  “He only had to experiment a few times and he could have figured it out. He said he could use it, too. Perhaps the Global Weather Shield is down.”

  The three others looked at him with a mixture of horror and amazement. Had this man single-handedly changed everything, providing the germs of destruction for all the systems devised by human beings? If so, had anything really been by chance? Indeed, what part had Pascale played in it all?

  Another peal of thunder crashed across the canyons, hitting against the bluffs and tumbling into the ravines. Jonas said, “This is the end of the world. And, Palmiro, you are Vishnu, the one who brings it to an end.”

  Palmiro regarded him irritably and shrugged. “I don't know what that is. I'm not anything special, if that is what you're saying. I just did some things with more consequences than I planned.”

  “I am not so certain about that,” said Eboni. “It seems all too much of a coincidence to me.”

  The sky with its brown tinge now looked almost green and suddenly Jonas tensed and almost doubled over, turning to grab the rock next to him. Danny asked, “What is it, Jonas? Are you OK?”

  He said nothing and shook his head. Then he straightened up. “I had the most terrible sensation, like everything was falling inside me. I'm alright now. Look, I've got to go.” Facing Palmiro he added, “I'll see you tomorrow, at the final turn before the plateau.”

  He went back inside the rock fortress and took his horse, leading it out and down the ridge. When he got to the bottom he mounted and, looking round, he waved, shouting something. But his words were drowned by another burst of thunder.

  Danny and Eboni decided they would let Palmiro rest and both return to the Ranch at once. Danny felt much more part of the community of the canyon than any colony of Heaven, and it was important to get back quickly to support it. Earlier that morning Jonas had organized a funeral pyre for Magada, getting help to drag charred timbers from Magus' cabin up to where she lay. The cremation was carried out at the spot to try to preserve the feeling around the tent, but the mood in the canyon had shifted anyway. The euphoria had disappeared and in its place there were sadness, fear, anxiety. Danny and Eboni made their farewells, telling Palmiro they would be thinking of him and Pascale every day until they were all reunited in the canyon. Nevertheless, as they rode down the ridge to the bottom and saw him standing there at the crack between the rocks, with the thunder still booming around him, something made them doubt they would ever see him again. He was a strange man who did not fit into any world, and continually brought worlds to an end. If he had not loved Pascale and she him, they did not know they could ever have been his friends.

  5. ROCK BOTTOM

  Palmiro went back inside the natural fortress and lay down. The ground was covered with fine white sand, and when he wrapped himself in his blanket, it made a reasonable surface. The thunder w
as drifting away to the east and no rain had reached the canyons. He felt safe, even protected, but he could not sleep. His mind returned over and over to the whole course of events like an animal chewing on a trapped limb. Where was it he had made the mistake? Where was it that everything could have been different if he'd only seen it? The thing he had missed was so elementary. Of course an organism as aggressive as the anti-enzyme could leap from person to person. All it would take was a sneeze or micro droplets in the air and it would wreak its havoc with the next body in line. What was it that Adorno said, that it did best at room temperature? How could he have missed that?

  He had studied pure biology in a world without illnesses. Viruses or bacteria did not exist in Heaven and even back in the Sector they had been practically eliminated. He had never reviewed them. Instead it was all the amazing, complex chemistry of the cell and the wonder of the Immortality enzyme as his guiding star. He had ended by devising its antidote, but again he told himself he had never anticipated anything else but the symbolic death of one man.

  Like a hammer-blow it struck him. Adorno had known this would happen. He had examined the solution and knew the power of the organism, he knew it would be highly infectious. For one final time Palmiro felt used by his master, exploited like a pawn on a chess board. Just as Adorno had directed him like a puppet to look for the anti-enzyme he had also hypnotized him into releasing a pathogen into Heaven. Yet, in almost the same moment, Palmiro doubted himself. He had allowed himself before to be used by Adorno, even after he had become aware of the game he was playing. Was it not possible, even likely, he'd also known how this would create a plague?