He’s giving us a bad name Charles…. the women, the booze…. It’s got to stop, it’s time…. he’s just gone too far…
A shuffle of feet. A sigh. I know, I know. But think of what the poor bugger is going through Frank… his only son…
We aren’t the bloody AA, and since when has he ever given an inch? And the kid, it’s bloody awful, I’ll give you that. But, well, I’m not sure it matters anymore…to him at least. And this debacle with NASA… Jesus Christ, Charles, we can’t afford another mistake.
Dimitri had left then. Too much information would only make his job harder. He hated politics.
Now, Dimi sucked the warmth into his lungs with relish, immersing himself in the still night air. Up here, it was just him and the infinite night sky. His insignificance in its immensity was comforting. Below him the dish glared into the darkness, an acre of white metal, lit up like a fallen Ferris wheel. Of all the telescopes he worked with, this would always be his favourite.
At the ladder's end, Dimitri pushed through the door of the suspended focus cabin. Inside, a revolutionary thirteen beam receiver collected, amplified and fed data to the control room below. Custom designed by the CSIRO, the Multibeam provided unprecedented efficiency in large scale radio surveys – ideal for their current dilemma.
“How are you going, old girl? Miss me?” Dimitri hummed tunelessly as he adjusted the gleaming silver receivers with the finesse of a concert pianist. “Alright, let’s see what’s out there…”
Sixty straight hours of observation and modelling were ruthless enough, but these results were crippling. Neil stood, gripping the back of a chair. His knuckles were white.
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah.”
“Where is this data coming from?” Neil’s face was as shadowed with fury as the others’ were with exhaustion. Even Cassandra had lost her charm. Dark rings flawed her perfect eyes and her voice cracked with fatigue.
“All the usual readings for deep space energy waves. In addition, we’ve been picking up electromagnetic radiation through the two closest probes. That’s four magnometers all up - one space probe that’s currently orbiting the moon and a satellite over South-East Asia. Both are consistently giving us two different patterns. Dimi has run them over and again and I’ve analysed the data through as many models as I can think of. It’s definitive.” She stood aside to look at Dimitri expectantly. The red digits on the atomic wall clock blurred. Dimitri knuckled his red-rimmed eyes. It was 4.45am.
“She’s right,” Dimi said. “Both sources have their long booms deployed to minimize emission interference. The two outboards are bringing in this Extra Low Frequency band here – we’ve got constant low frequency electromagnetic fields at hotspots around the globe. We’ve got one in North Africa, Bosnia, Indonesia, Mexico, Tanzania, Croatia, China… the list goes on. Very specific co-ordinates - all emitting photons in random phase. They’re all increasing in strength by the same rate every 24 hours. We’ll have to get more data but the pattern is there. It’s a natural field, so they must all have something in common… no idea what.”
Neil’s jaw clenched. “But this one… are you sure about this?” Neil ran his index finger down the bright monitor, leaving a trail of sweat. He glared at Cassandra, willing her to deny what he saw. She didn’t.
“Positive,” Cassandra sighed. “This second pattern was picked up by the inboard magnometer from both spacecraft as well as our sensors. A stream of high frequency energy. Pulsing; almost Gamma level. Dimi was able to retrieve our corrupted data - it fits the pattern. It’s getting stronger. It’s putting out a massive amount of power Neil, and each night is stronger than the last. The readings are saturating our equipment. It’s going to peak… soon. This field – it’s like a giant finger reaching down to us – it has almost reached the earth’s atmosphere.”
“How soon?”
“24 hours… 48 maybe. I don’t know. There’s no precedent here.”
“24 hours? What the fuck? Not good enough! I need clarification on this. Now. What is it?” Neil licked his lips, caught between the inherent danger of the situation and its potential. He needed more time.
Cassandra groaned softly and pulled on the back of her neck. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, not close to earth anyway. There was a case in the seventies when military satellites detected radio bursts like this flashing all over the sky. They turned out to be massive star explosions, supernova, collapsing and forming a black hole. Same pattern, but stronger… but this is weaker and much too close.”
Neil knew the consequences of high energy magnetic fluctuations. If this energy mutation reached the electron–rich layer of the earth’s atmosphere, the ionosphere, it would be breaking through the earth’s safety net. At the very least it could destroy electrical power distribution grids and interrupt radio signals and global positioning systems across the continent. And at the very worst… so much for harnessing its power. Shit.
“What’s the point of origin?”
Cassandra met Dimitri’s eyes quickly and turned away, straightening her shoulders.
“That’s the weird thing Neil. There seem to be two origin points. It’s like they are reaching for each other, attracting each other – one from space and one on earth. The strongest field – the one pulsing as it increases in strength each night, is coming from the light side of the moon in the general vicinity of the Clavious crater. The other one … well, it’s very specific.”
“Where?”
“Here - Australia. I don’t know what is creating this Neil, but I don’t think it’s natural. The location is… suspicious.”
“I asked where Cassandra.”
“Okay, Australia – specifically Melbourne. Actually, more specifically… the exact co-ordinates for Melbourne University.” She looked to Dimitri for support but got only grim silence. She rewarded him with a scowl.
Neil was taken aback. “Melbourne University? Are you sure? The bloody university is drawing this thing towards us? What the hell are they doing down there?”
“I don’t know, but it’s something big.”
It’s something big alright. The corner of Neil's mouth twitched. They may be creating this surge, but I’ll be damned if they’re going to control it.
Dimitri shuffled uncomfortably but Cassandra didn’t falter as they waited his instruction.
Neil's eyes narrowed. “Well kids, in the words of Sun Tzu, ‘Opportunities multiply as they are seized’”. There was no humour in his tone. This is my game.
For a moment no one breathed. The first blinding rays of morning sun hit the dish and reflected, dazzling their eyes. Neil jumped to his feet and strode for the door.
“Where are you going?” Cassandra followed.
“Stay! Keep working! I want as much on this thing as you can get.”
“But where…?”
“Where the hell do you think I’m going? To the airport! I’ve got to get to Melbourne University to find out what the hell is going on.”
“Hiranah”
“Mmm?”
“Hiranah…. It is time.”
A jolt like lightning pierced her heart. Ivy clawed at the bed sheets, struggling to pull them higher as she lurched forward. The pitch black was blinding. Her pupils narrowed, straining to make out shapes in the room. The voice had been gravelly and hot against her face. Someone’s here, someone is in my room. Oh my god. I’m going to die. For a moment she was afraid to breathe, afraid that the sharp, shallow breaths would alert the intruder to her consciousness. Hasten them to act. But she had already moved and there was no attack. Just blackness. Terrified of exposure, Ivy reached out and flicked on the lamp. The room was empty. But the radio was on. Soft music was playing and Ivy smacked her fist over the sleep button to turn off the false alarm. What on earth? It’s the middle of the night.
She rubbed her face with clammy hands and pulled her knees up high. She had been having a typical nightmare until that voice had broken through her dream. Louder th
an her own thoughts – it had seemed… present. Like the man had been next to her, breathing in her ear. I’m going insane – there’s no one here. It was just a dream. The imagination that brought her nightmares was a curse and she chastised and denied her fears with wet eyes. It’s nothing. Just me and my stupid brain. Ignore it and it will go away, like always. It’s nothing, nothing. But it wasn’t until the first rays of sun crept through branches at her window, that Ivy finally relented once more to sleep.
She was late. A tantalising aroma greeted Ivy as she passed the coffee stand but it would have to wait. Weighed heavy with books, she dumped her belongings in her musty office, scattering the cup of chewed pencils. Ivy cursed, rustling through her bag and pulled out a scrunched leaflet. 'Palm Oil murders' blazoned the front cover. Stuffing it into her jacket pocket, she rushed back down the hall to the elevator. After an agonizingly slow ride, she leapt out. Rounding a sharp corner, Ivy skidded, attempting to make her awkward jog seem slightly more normal to the professors sharing a coffee in the hallway and almost toppling a precarious display of South American tribal masks. The professors pressed themselves back against the walls to let her through, straight-faced in their shirts and ties, eyebrows furrowed disapprovingly. The only exception was a round man with a brightly coloured open-necked shirt and long silver hair held back in a neat, low ponytail. She grinned at Professor Karl Ellery and he saluted her with his cup as she ran by, and then chuckled into his coffee.
Tucking her unruly hair behind her ears, Ivy joined the growing throng of people gathered in the great courtyard. Plastic tables were being set up by volunteers, bright orange and green banners hung between trees and the air was thick with anticipation. In her pocket, Ivy's hand closed on the crumpled flyer. Hundreds of the same were being passed through the crowd by volunteers in orange shirts. An outlined artistic impression of an orangutan face with large, sad eyes adorned their backs with the words ‘Systematic Genocide’ in large black print underneath. Bus loads of students arrived for their lectures and hesitated with curiosity as they wandered through the rally. Many stopped and joined the crowd. More flyers were quickly dispersed.
Spying Liam, Ivy pushed towards an information stand. Nearby, a student in a giant orangutan costume lay on a rusty old hospital stretcher in the middle of the throng. A bloody bandage had been wrapped around his head. She paused, surprised. A little macabre maybe, but he was certainly drawing attention as people shuffled around trying to get a closer look. A second costumed student was handing out flyers in the west archway, drawing more attention from commuters. A dozen orange shirts carried posters on sticks through the crowd with photos of endangered animals behind bars. 'Green or Gone?' and 'Orphaned' were written above them in black ink. Reaching the information table, Liam had disappeared. Instead Ivy was greeted by the smiling faces of volunteers, eager to hand out information. She looked back through the milling crowd on the grass in front of the empty podium. Liam was nowhere to be seen.
A few hundred students and passers-by were now jostling around the information booths. Orange shirts called out provocatively and cheering followed. Anticipating trouble, a few police officers roamed the outskirts of the crowd.
“It's genocide! Systematic slaughter by multi-national corporations!” yelled an orange shirt near Ivy sporting a large banner. “Make them responsible!” Cheering and clapping resounded as the crowd closed in. “Once the forest is gone, how will the indigenous survive?” his voice rose angrily, “No forest, no food, no money! Where will the corporations be then? Counting their money!”
The crowd again roared, eager to support this new champion to their cause. They jostled back and forth and Ivy felt bodies closing in around her. The chanting of the crowd became rhythmic, almost harmonic in intensity. Eager to escape the throng, Ivy turned away.
It is time. The voice that had broken her nightmare, suddenly whispered warm in her ear. Ivy spun around, terrified, to find only a woman cheering the orange-shirt.
Come to us. The voice came again, heavy in the space behind her neck, menacing in its soft promise. With a shriek Ivy spun around, wide eyed and frantic. A misplaced foot in the crowd tripped her. She fell awkwardly, grabbing at people as she hit the ground hard.
“God damn it!” She heard gasps as people strained to look. The menacing voice was gone and her panic was broken. Suddenly, Ivy was conscious that her over-active imagination had crushed social etiquette. Again. Humiliation washed over her as she lay sprawled on the grass surrounded by feet. On this rare occasion that Ivy had chosen to wear a skirt, she now found it up around her waist. For a split second that seemed like agonising hours, the large strawberry coloured birthmark high on her left thigh glared back at the students looking down at her. Feet around her shuffled and someone heavy stood on her fingers as she groped for her skirt.
A hand broke through the dense crowd, briefly grazing the ivy leaf birthmark as it sought out her aching fingers through the jostling feet. Ivy grabbed it, struggling to regain her footing with stinging eyes. One-handed, she pulled her skirt across her thighs. Her face burned with embarrassment as she looked up into the eyes of her rescuer.
Orrin. For the third time in a short morning she cursed her own stupidity as he led her through the crowd to a space beside the empty podium.
“That was quite a spill, you all’right?” Orrin asked. Ivy cringed at his sympathy; he'd obviously seen the whole thing. The whole thing. His eyes seemed to linger on her skirt.
“Yeah fine, I'm fine, thanks…” The crowd had escalated their feverish chanting and cheering, but Orrin seemed oblivious.
“Jaysus,” he muttered vaguely, still staring at her skirt.
“It's a birthmark,” Ivy offered unnecessarily. Her smile bordered on ridiculous.
As if caught with his finger in a jar, Orrin quickly looked up.
“An ivy leaf… Ivy… my parents weren't very imaginative,” Ivy said. As much as she refused to entertain the thought, this was not the way Ivy had hoped he'd find that birthmark. She could almost see Orrin consciously regaining his composure, pulling his casual charm on like a suit. She, on the other hand, wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Orrin smiled. “You sure you're alright, didn't break anything?”
“No I don't think so, just my self-respect…” she muttered, smoothing her skirt down and tucking her hair behind her ear again. Damn fringe.
“Not on my account,” Orrin said gently. He cleared his throat, pulling his hand from his pocket. “Actually, you might have broken something; this was on the ground where you fell.” Ivy's silver chain hung through his fingers, the black stone swinging. “Seems okay now.” Orrin studied the stone for a few seconds. The initials IC stood out in sharp relief under the morning sun. The warm amulet fell between their hands as his fingers grazed her palm. Her body reacted instantly to the touch and for a split second she saw herself as something else entirely. Beautiful. Wait, no- I didn't think that. The emotions that coursed through her were overwhelming. Orrin wanted her. Ivy was suddenly sure of it. But it felt all wrong - she felt easy, confident, enamoured, even intrigued… by herself? Conflictingly, Ivy felt racked with humiliation at the same time. Just breathe…. What? She took the amulet, dropping her hand from his.
The grass beneath her feet suddenly became very interesting as Ivy fumbled to clasp the chain behind her neck again. By the time she looked up again, Orrin stood straight and poised with a crooked smile.
“Can I get you a coffee?” Orrin asked. “Seriously, you look like you need one, or maybe something stronger? I’ve a throat on me and I really need an excuse.” His eyes danced as he held out his hand to her once again. Ivy offered him a smile, confident now that she looked slightly less manic. Her fringe brushed against her eyelashes and she pushed it back.
“I'd love to Orrin, but I -”
Orrin interrupted. “No again? Seriously? Please, just grant me the pleasure of a single, terrible refectory coffee. Just one. I saved you after all.” He gestured back t
o the crowd.
Ivy looked around, suddenly conscious of the burgeoning rally. The protestors had driven them to fever pitch with their war-cries and now the people were growing restless. They were waiting for a speaker to ignite their passion and direct it. The orange shirt, his sales pitch complete, directed his attention and banner at the empty podium. The eyes of the crowd followed expectantly and silence fell.
Yes, god damn it. I deserve this. Ivy nodded. “One terrible refectory coffee then, I promise.” She drew confidence from Orrin's boyish victory smile. “You'll have to wait though.” A flicker of confusion clouded his eyes as she turned away.
Ivy took a deep breath and stepped up to the podium.
A sea of eyes washed over her as she stood before the hushed crowd gathering her thoughts. Finally, inspiration took Ivy by the shoulders, as it always did, and directed her voice.
“Insatiable.”
Ivy drew her eyes across the multitude, gathering strength from their collectively held breath. “Think on that word, because that is what we are facing. An insatiable appetite for Palm Oil. If we do nothing, then within a decade - that's in your lifetime,” she pointed for emphasis at the middle of the human sea, “… ninety-eight percent of the rainforests in Borneo and Sumatra will be burnt to the ground and replaced with Palm Oil plantations.” Ivy’s eyes were aflame and her long hair whipped her shoulders with each movement. Her reclusive nature had been evicted and she was vibrant with passion.
“Every hour, three hundred football fields of primary forest are destroyed in South East Asia alone. Over twenty-two million acres are already gone. It’s an epic loss, but I guarantee you, we have much more to lose. Production is set to triple within ten years.” Ivy paused and took a moment to look directly into the eyes of audience members.
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