Mayan December

by Brenda Cooper

  Nix’s reply came too fast. “That’s fine Mom. Oriana’s going to let me watch television tonight.”

  Something didn’t seem quite right, but perhaps it was just the weird day, and hearing from Marie after all these years. Or that Nixie seemed happier with Oriana than with her. “Okay, honey. I’m going to try to be home by your bedtime.”

  “We’re going to go swimming and then eat.”

  A little part of her wished Nixie did mind her being gone. “Have fun. Call me if . . . if anything goes wrong. Tell Oriana, too.”

  “You’re the one who’s traveling around,” Nixie replied in a dry voice.

  Alice shook her head. Damned kid was so smart. “I’ll be careful if you will. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Nixie ended the call before Alice could add anything more. At least Nix wasn’t crabby any more. People who told her being a mother was the hardest thing in the world were right.

  She turned to take a long look back at the ruins bulking into the sky. The Mayans had built—and thought—big. The next time she saw the temples and observatories, they would be decorated for the turn of the baktun, and today’s crowds would be nothing. The heavy stone buildings looked almost new, if bleached gray and white. What if Nixie really had stepped back over a thousand years? For all that Ian and Oriana and Nixie herself had said, it was still tough to believe.

  During her first visit to Chichén, the ruin had taken her breath away, the way a beautiful wild waterfall or the twisted peaks of the Grand Tetons did, and the first time she climbed K’uk’ulkan and saw the vast jungles from above, she had knelt on the hard stone and let the feel of the world wash over her. She had felt part of a mystery. Part of all the grandeur of life and the cosmos, small and large all at once. She knew that she had felt that, remembered it, but she couldn’t recall what the actual feeling was, like a name lost on the tip of her tongue.

  But that had been before—before school, and astronomy and archeology classes, before getting married and having a kid. Before a roadside bomb in Afghanistan changed how she and Nix would live forever. She was over it, and she wasn’t mad at anyone anymore. There never had been anyone to be mad at.

  She fought a sudden urge to go back in, to climb K’uk’ulkan herself and stand there with no distractions. Maybe all the wonder and awe of that first time would come back.

  The bus door opened in front of her and she stepped inside.

  The University of Arizona had rented most of one of the smaller hotels just outside the tourist district proper in Cancun. When Alice arrived, the party was already in full swing. Every Mesoamerica researcher with any funding at all had figured out how to get down here.

  Some faces were familiar. Old graduate students with work of their own now, past teachers, people she had toured with or met at conferences. Here and there, Mayans and other Mexicans mingled with the otherwise mostly American crowd.

  Alice waved at Steven Blake, an older man with white hair who’d been her cultural anthropology professor back in graduate school, and a mentor through her first few big projects. A slight stoop in his shoulders reminded her it had been over five years since she last saw him. He smiled, and waved her over. “How are you?” He asked. “I thought you’d be here. I saw your paper in last week’s Mayan Journal. The one on Venus. It was quite good.”

  The praise pleased her. “Thank you.”

  “I’m here,” he said, pointing at the hotel floor. “Where are you staying?” he asked.

  “At the resort outside Xcaret. I’ve got my daughter with me.”

  He plucked a glass of wine from a tray bobbing past them on the arm of a dark-haired teenager dressed in white. He handed it to Alice. “Turning her into a Mayan expert?”

  “She went to Tulum today. She always travels with me.” Alice took a sip of her wine. “When did you get in?”

  “Yesterday. Did you hear about the storms in the Midwest? And at the same time there’s idiots at the capital demanding lower gas prices.”

  She held up a hand to forestall him. “Some days I can’t stand to listen to the news. She remembered the conference. “Anything new between China and India?”

  “Not this week. The UN declared North Korea a disaster zone today and sent in troops to guard a food caravan.” He took a sip of his own wine. “So what do you think will happen?”

  He didn’t have to say “when.” At the end of the calendar. Now. Soon. She shook her head. “A big ceremony, a few demonstrations, people who claim some kind of religious experience, and then the next day will dawn.”

  “And the world will keep sliding downhill,” he said softly, his eyes full of sadness. “I would hope for something better, but like you, I don’t see what it could be.”

  His cynicism grated. She sipped at her wine, looking around for food. A tall man wearing a waiter’s white uniform passed her with an empty tray. She turned back to Steven. “Maybe everyone will wake up and love their brothers and sisters, or all the hungry will be fed.” Something was happening, and it had caught her daughter up in it. She wanted tell him, needed to. But Steven would laugh at her, like she would laugh at anyone who told her a girl had traveled back in time. Or would have, two days ago. She needed a safer subject. “How’s the food?”

  “Great. I’m going after some more. Want to join me at the appetizer buffet?”

  Steven’s specialty had always been finding food. He did a nice job of weaving through the crowd, and by the time they reached the table, he’d picked up three other people she knew in passing. The whole line of Steven followers were chattering about the weather and the jungle, and who might still be funding archeological research next year. As she listened for clues to possible future employers, she ate salty chips and ceviche, and pork marinated in lime juice and wrapped in small flour tortillas.

  The talk turned to current events—flooding and drought, methane out-gassing in the arctic. Things she couldn’t control.

  Alice drifted away and wandered through the crowd, wrapped inside herself. Why was she here anyway? Just because everybody else was? It was the cool party? She should go home to Nix.

  A hand descended on her shoulder. “Alice!”

  She looked up to find Ian smiling at her.

  “What are you doing here?” Her cheeks flushed red. “I mean . . . I didn’t expect to see you.” She didn’t want to see him here, except his smile had made her smile.

  He lifted his hand from her shoulder and turned toward a young dark-haired man. “Peter Wood. This beautiful lady is Dr. Alice Cameron.”

  Peter was scrawny, but his handshake was firm. “Hi. I’m with the University of Texas.”

  “Impressive.” They had a good Mayan studies program, including the Linda Schele Library.

  “I’m a grad student in their Information Studies Program.”

  Her face must have shown her confusion, because Ian said, “Come on. Let’s sit in the bar. I think you’ll be interested in why Peter’s here.” He didn’t wait for assent, but took her by the hand and led her through the crowd. Ian’s hand folded around hers. He smelled like sweet jungle flowers and beer.

  As they worked their way through the crowd, at least three people greeted him by name. He responded warmly to everyone, but kept his grip on her. As if by magic, he found a tall round table just being abandoned in a corner. A garish red and gold hanging lamp bathed the yellow table in light. Ian hopped up on one of the tall stools. “This is great. I’m glad we ran into you.”

  She wasn’t sure she was glad.

  Ian’s brown dreads had been pulled back into a thick ponytail and tied with a white ribbon. He looked both older and more serious than he had by the pool. He turned to Peter, who was setting up a bright red ultra light computer he’d pulled out of a battered green backpack. “Can you get us a few plates of food and some wine?”

  Peter nodded and plunged back into the crowd. Ian grinned his wide bright grin and she found herself caught up in it against her will, as if she were a girl on a date. “Is h
e a friend?” she asked.

  “I’ve known Peter for years. We’ve been following each other on social networks for years. He has ideas you might be interested in. He thinks we’re near singularity and that the end of the Mayan calendar might mean the birth of a new species of human.”

  She still held a glass of Syrah in one hand. She took a careful sip, trying not to choke. “Surely you’re kidding.”

  He laughed. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. And you can’t exactly discount that something is happening. After all, you know time is flexing, right? Nixie experienced it. I have.” He stopped for a second, looking at her quizzically. “Have you?”

  “I don’t seem to attract magic.”

  “You attract me,” he replied, so offhand it startled her. “I mean, you’re interesting. Why did you start studying Mayan stars?”

  She twirled her now-empty glass in her hand. “Because I fell in love with this place the first time I saw it. And I read science fiction when I was a kid, so I guess the two things went together in my brain.” She wanted to tell him about Marie’s call, but it might be breaking security.

  Peter emerged from between two old men arguing and a pair of female grad students in skimpy white shorts. He balanced three glasses and a plate piled high with appetizers. Alice took the plate from him and he set the three glasses down with a flourish. She should be leaving instead of listening to Peter as he asked, “So what stories has Ian been telling on me?”

  “He said I might be interested in why you’re here.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s figure out what you know. You’re an astronomer?”

  She nodded. “Archeoastronomer. That means I’m as much a historian as an astronomer.”

  “Okay. But you’ve had math?”

  That made her want to scream. Plus, he could stop saying “okay” any time. “Why don’t you just try me out? I’ll stop you if I don’t understand anything.”

  “Well, you know how pyramids all over the world have been built with more geometry than the ancients could have had?”

  She stiffened. “That’s a common misperception. It sells pre-technology cultures short.” She pointed at his nearly translucent screen. “You don’t need computers to have math. You need things to count, like stones, or stars. Ancient populations had plenty of hours to study the sky.”

  He didn’t seem to notice her tone. “Well, okay. Sorry. But you have to admit that all the way back to Sumer there’s stuff that’s hard to explain?”

  She nodded, as much to humor him as anything.

  “Well, okay. This great tree in the sky, it only happens once every turn of the Mayan calendar, right? And the last time was the beginning of this calendar round, right? I think that means we’ll go through some kind of information field. Information is creative. You know how they’re finding that robots with more access to raw information and more possible processing algorithms are able to pass first grade tests now?”

  She hadn’t. “Like Turing tests?”

  “Not that. But they can deal with less certain information, answer multiple choice questions instead of just true/false ones, even on topics they have to research. Fuzzy logic. And quantum computing is going to make something too smart to pass the Turing test. You know how the test is about whether a human can tell if it’s talking to a human or a computer?” His voice had gotten higher and sped up. “It used to be because the computer was too dumb, but soon it’s going to be too smart.” He shook his head. “Okay, I’m way off base. I’m just trying to say that information is creative, or can be. That raw data can have a creative force.”

  She licked her lips, and glanced over at Ian, who had just stuffed a bit of fried banana in his mouth. Some help he was. Did he believe any of this? She turned back to Peter. “So if I buy that, then how do you think this information is getting here?”

  “Well, through space, obviously. Maybe we’re just about to be at the right place in the universe to access some new information. Like a radio signal only with more data. Well, more like a laser beam. Or an artificial intelligence.” He was practically bouncing in his seat. He was actually cute, in an uber-geeky way. “A friend of mine was postulating that AIs could use any stratum at all to hold together. Air. Space. They would just be bigger or smaller, denser or more diffuse . . . they could compute with whatever molecules are there, as long as there are basic building blocks, because with nanotech, an AI could change one thing into another. As needed. The only thing it couldn’t do is live in a pure vacuum.”

  She cleared her throat and sipped her wine. If that was the case, why didn’t a single AI take over the whole universe? She didn’t ask.

  “Sorry. I just get so excited about this stuff. We live in the best time ever. I just know something good is going to happen.”

  Well, at least he wasn’t as despondent as Steven. Hope was good. Of course, Peter clearly lived in his head. Maybe that explained the run-on sentences. He continued, “Or metaverses. You understand those? Multiple universes?”

  She nodded, listening to the high-pitched screeches of a band tuning up not far from them. In a few minutes, they probably wouldn’t be able to talk here.

  “Okay. Maybe we come closer to the boundaries of another universe. Then all kinds of things would happen, could happen—we might stretch and change, gather raw information from some other place or some other time. Did Ian—?” he glanced at his friend, who nodded. “Well, he told you he might have seen old Maya? Maybe that was in a parallel universe. Not this one at all. One where the Maya stayed ascendant.”

  Right. “Cultures don’t stay static for hundreds of years. Even in alternate universes.” She gave Ian a wry look.

  He grinned. “I told you you’d be interested.”

  “So you believe this?” she asked.

  “I’m not even sure I do,” Peter answered before Ian could. “But isn’t it interesting to think about?”

  The band started, a combination of pan-style flutes, lap-based string instruments, and hand drums; not as loud as she’d feared. Ian pushed himself up from his chair. “Want to dance?”

  She did. She bit her lip and turned away. “I have to get home to Nix.”

  She stood up, grabbed her purse, and started across the wood dance floor. He stopped her with a gentle call of her name. He stood close to her, put a finger on her cheek, and lifted her face so he could look into her eyes. “Don’t let all these ideas, mine or Peter’s, or even yours, scare you. Something is happening, and none of us knows what it is yet.”

  She swallowed, feeling his physical presence so strong that she took a step back. “He doesn’t have a theory. He just has hope and a bunch of pop science.”

  Ian grinned at that. “I know. But he’s kind of refreshing. And smart.”

  “Okay.” She laughed, but Ian didn’t seem to get the pun on Peter’s language. Maybe that was a good thing. The kid was likeable, if strange and intense.

  Ian cocked an eyebrow at her. “Sure you don’t want to dance?”

  Some inner person she hardly recognized wanted to dance so much that Alice barely choked out, “I haven’t danced in years, and I have to go. I have an appointment in the morning.”

  He looked genuinely disappointed.

  How long had it been since a man attracted her? And what was she thinking? Ian was at least a little bit crazy, as far as she could tell. She bit her lip and looked him in the eyes, trying to look resolute. “Maybe another time.”

  He pursed his lips and his eyes clouded over. He seemed to be thinking hard, nervous, even though she’d have sworn it wasn’t an emotion he was very familiar with. But when he met her eyes, he flashed his bright, full smile. “Maybe I should follow you home.”

  “No.” She didn’t let men follow her home.

  He stopped, close to her. “I’d like to hear Nixie’s story.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You already did.”

  “No. From today.”

  “Huh?”

  “Nixie did it again,” he sai
d.

  She drew in a deep breath and held it while found her phone and checked. Nixie was at the hotel. “How do you know?” she challenged him, suddenly angry that he had information she didn’t. About her daughter.

  “Shhhh,” he cautioned. “I talked to Oriana.”

  “Well, so did I!” But she hadn’t. She’d called Nixie directly. “When?”

  “At Tulum. Oriana went to get them water. She turned around as soon as she got into line, and Nixie wasn’t there. She ran back out of line and looked but Nixie wasn’t anywhere, and Oriana lost her tracking, too. You know that shouldn’t happen with the local net between two linked devices.”

  She already knew Nixie was safe. But that didn’t keep her from shaking. They should have told her! The sudden anger bracing her spine made her blurt out, “You knew I didn’t know about it! Or you would have talked about it. How could you hide that from me?” She balled her fists and stuck her chin out. She struggled for something to say, and ended up snapping at him, “How dare you!”

  He blinked at her, looking barely disturbed, and certainly not looking guilty.

  Anger choked her chest and her eyes were hot and wet with tears. She had to get away from him. She dived into the crowd, looking for the women’s bathroom.

  There was a line. Used to be science was so much a man’s game it was never a problem. She went for the closest exit, keeping her head down. Outside, tears stormed down her cheeks. She headed for the parking lot.

  Ian called her name from behind her.

  She ignored him, almost running to her car. It was tough to spot in the dimly lit and crowded lot, especially since she’d gone out a different door than she came in. She wiped at her face, struggling to clear her vision after she tried two rows with no luck. Ian didn’t call for her again, but she swore he was nearby. She could feel him.

  She finally found her car by pressing “lock” on her key fob to make the horn sound and the lights flash. Alice unlocked the car, opened the door, and got in. When she went to close the door she felt resistance and looked up to see him holding the door open. “Look, let me talk about—”

  “You should have told me!” She was almost shouting. She never shouted. “You should have told me as soon as you saw me. Not . . . not wasted my time with Peter’s crazy ideas.”