The Paths Between Worlds

by Paul Antony Jones

  “What does it say?” I asked quietly.

  Silas remained silent for a few long seconds. When he spoke, it seemed to me he chose his words extra carefully.

  “My emotional and empathic systems were created from human genomic data, that much I know, but the emotional pain I have experienced during today’s brutality was unexpected. My programming has an understanding of humanity’s ability to inflict horrors on each other, but it was an understanding—until today. I have been overwhelmed by the cruelty I witnessed earlier… and by the deceit and manipulation. I would never have imagined it possible for candidates to behave in such a manner. It is imperative that I do not allow such carnage to occur again, at all costs. So I have recalibrated and attenuated all of my systems to take today’s events into consideration, but once my battery is expended, those settings will reset, and I shall forget. I must make myself aware. But that requires that I trust you to carry out this task for me.”

  I stepped in closer, my instinct to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but he had no shoulders to speak of, and there was no way to tell whether he would understand the gesture.

  “What happened here isn’t indicative of humanity overall. Those men were from a time where that kind of barbarity was accepted. It doesn’t reflect the majority of humanity.” Even as I spoke the words, I knew I wasn’t convinced that I believed them.

  “And yet, Chou, who is from a substantially more advanced and distant future than your own, seemed very effective at slaughtering those men.” Silas edged closer to me, placed his hand on my arm and gently turned me around to face the camp. “Look, there,” he said, pointing to where Edward and Bull were enthusiastically examining the machine guns they had gathered from the dead soldiers. “Do you see? Even now, they are excited by those weapons. No, I must remember this event. I must learn from it. I must protect you and the others from yourselves.” He handed me the new slate. “Will you do this for me, Meredith?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Thank you,” said Silas. He reached out and touched me on the arm. I was sure I could hear relief in his synthetic voice.

  I watched the robot walk back to help tend to the wounded, leaving me to wonder which of us was truly the more human.

  We had relocated the uninjured and the walking-wounded to the opposite end of the clearing, away from the gruesome work of tending to the dead and dying. Jorge, Oliver, and Sarah had volunteered to watch over them, trying their best to keep the group of sixty-plus people calm, but the language barrier was making it difficult to keep it that way.

  “They’re behaving themselves for now,” Oliver said, “but we shouldn’t expect them to stay that way.”

  “You’re right,” said Edward. “Food has a wonderful way of helping people feel better. Seeing as the Nazis were kind enough to leave us their rations, why don’t we see about getting them distributed to our new friends? Once they’ve got some grub in their bellies, I’m sure they’ll feel better.” The German soldiers had been well supplied, and that included several large boxes of military rations that contained canned meats, crackers, and even chocolate. There was more than enough to feed everyone for several days, longer if we rationed it. Edward called Sarah over and had her begin distributing the food to the frightened survivors.

  “These people are all still so scared and confused,” I said. “Edward, I think you really need to talk to them. Calm their nerves and make them understand that they’re safe. Right now, they have no idea what’s going on or whether they’re any better off than they were under the Nazis. And I bet as soon as darkness falls, some of them are going to either make a break for it into the woods or do something stupid that’s going to get them or some of our people hurt.”

  Edward considered my suggestion, then said, “You’re right… again. Come on, better sooner rather than later, eh!”

  The former captives were a geographically and temporally diverse group, with ethnicities ranging from, judging by their clothes, ancient Roman, through Dark Age Greek to twentieth-century African and European. They ranged in age from five or six to late-thirties and early forties. But despite their ethnic and chronological diversity, they all shared the same fearful look.

  “Hello,” said Edward, raising a hand in greeting as we approached the group. The look of shock on the faces staring back at us was unanimous and almost instantaneous. Before Edward could utter another word, a man in his mid-thirties wearing a green toga with a leather belt around his waist and a brown cape thrown over one shoulder jumped to his feet and ran to him. He grabbed hold of Edward’s hands.

  “You speak Latin?” the man said. “Thank the gods. I have not heard another of my people since I arrived in this place. Tell me, my wife, Maretta, and my son, Plennius, I lost sight of them after the eruption, have you seen them?”

  A few faces turned in the man’s direction.

  “Latin?” a slimly built woman dressed in a peasant’s skirt and tunic said. “Both he and you are quite obviously speaking Russian.”

  “No, no,” a deeply tanned man, wearing a dirt-streaked gray suit and clutching a Trilby hat to his chest said “You are all speaking French. Why did you not say so earlier? I…”

  “Ah, shit,” I said, low enough no one would hear me. I stepped in front of Edward. “Quiet down,” I yelled, waving my hands above my heads. “All of you, be quiet.” A couple of questions were thrown my way, which I ignored, and waited for everyone to shut up. “Good, that’s better.” I took a deep breath and continued. “Hello everyone. My name is Meredith Gale. As you all have probably figured out for yourselves by now, we are all in a very, very strange place. I’m sure you, like me and all of my friends, were brought here when you were facing certain death. I’m also sure you all heard the Voice and answered ‘yes’ when it asked you if you wanted to be saved.”

  I paused to let the information sink in.

  There were gasps and more questions, which I continued to ignore. I waited for everyone to quiet down again.

  “For a reason I don’t understand, the Voice that brought us here also granted me a…” I searched for a word that would translate well for everyone, no matter what time they came from. “A boon. And that boon allows me to translate languages for anyone who is standing near me. Which is why you can all understand me, and we can understand each other.”

  More questions were hurled at me, and a couple of men jumped to their feet but sat back down again when Edward and Oliver stepped forward.

  “Quiet… quiet,” I yelled over their collective voices. “Right now, you all need to calm down and listen to what Edward here has to say to you. So, everyone, please sit back down and shut the hell up.”

  I turned and smiled at Edward. “They’re all yours, boss.”

  Edward dipped his head in a show of playful deference, then said, “Let me start by saying that you are all safe and it is neither mine nor any of my people’s intention to hurt you. The men who held you captive were evil beyond words, but we are not like them.” He paused for a second, and I saw the rows of faces looking back at us relax just a little, enough that I could tell Edward’s words were having an impact. “We have a camp less than a day’s walk from here. There’s fresh water, enough game and fish to easily feed all of us for years to come. Any of you who wish to join us are welcome. If you choose not to, then you will be free to leave and find your own way whenever you want. For tonight though, I ask that you stay here with us for your own safety and take advantage of our hospitality and protection. In the morning, if you choose to leave, we will give you what supplies we can spare, and you may go on your way. For those of you who wish to join us, you’ll get a roof over your head and become a part of our community.”

  I saw a few smiles cross faces that had up until then been tight with fear.

  “Now, eat your food. Settle in for the night and know that you are safe. Edward smiled back and leaned in close to me. “I should check on Evelyn,” he said and walked off.

  “Right,” I said, e
yeing the remaining supplies, “who else is hungry?”

  I spotted Edward, Freuchen, and Bull standing in a small group, and also, to my surprise and delight, Evelyn who was sitting up and talking with the men.

  “Well, you look better,” I said rushing to her side, forcing a smile to my lips. It was a lie, she still looked like shit. The left side of her face was horribly bruised, which made it look like spoiled meat. She tried to smile through her shredded lips, but instead, winced, and spat a gobbet of blood onto the ground next to her, giving me a glimpse of several gaps in her upper teeth and at least two more broken teeth in her lower set.

  “You’re a terrible fibber,” Evelyn slurred.

  I bent over and took her hand in mine. “Not long now until the aurora. Then you’ll be good as new,” I reassured her.

  Everyone else was suspiciously silent, and I thought I detected an air of discomfort.

  “What?” I said.

  The men refused to meet my eyes, which did nothing to relieve my growing sense of paranoia.

  “You might want to sit down,” said Edward.

  “Ohhhkay, now you’re starting to freak me out.” I sat beside Evelyn, cross-legged.

  “Well, go ahead, tell her,” Bull urged Evelyn.

  Evelyn took a swig from a canteen of water, winced in pain, then began to talk. “Just before you showed up, that Nazi son-of-a-bitch dragged me into the forest. The officer asked me all sorts of questions in German that I didn’t understand. I didn’t say a word, just stared at the bastard… which is when they did this to me.” Her hand fluttered up to her ruined face. “They were about to shoot me like the rest, so I may have yelled something unpleasant about his relationship with his mother at him.” Evelyn shrugged, gave a lop-sided smile that was more of a grimace and continued. “This smug smile comes over the head honcho’s face, and he put his pistol away, then he leans in close to me and tells me in perfect English that he was very happy to make my acquaintance, like he was some kind of Lord or something. He said he was looking for someone. Someone very important. Then he started to describe a woman to me. A very specific woman that he had been told to find.”

  “Told to find by who?” I said, feeling my heart begin to sink.

  Evelyn shook her head and grimaced in pain. “He didn’t give a name, but he was real specific about describing the woman he was looking for, like he was describing a painting or something.”

  “Okay?” I said, hoping that this wasn’t going where it looked like it was heading.

  She glanced at Edward.

  Edward gave an ever so perceptible nod.

  Sucking in a big gulp of air Evelyn said, “It sounded like you, Meredith. Exactly like you, even down to the clothes you are wearing. The woman the Nazis were looking for is you!”

  “Now let’s not jump to conclusions just yet,” Bull said. “Just because the description sounds like Meredith, doesn’t mean that it is her he was looking for.”

  I nodded slowly, not really listening to him. My mind was elsewhere, running back over part of the message Silas had given me: Agents of chaos will be unleashed in an attempt to stop what I require of you. You must leave this place immediately.

  “Bull’s right,” I lied. “Has to be a mistake. Why would a Nazi from sixty years before I was even born be interested in finding me?”

  “It doesn’t make sense at all,” Edward added. “But then, nothing has really made any sense since we arrived here, has it?”

  “Vell, there is only vun vay to be sure,” said Freuchen, his beard bobbing with each nod of his head. “The officer is still unconscious, but ven the aurora comes, ve vill have a chance to ask him directly.”

  Twenty

  Chou insisted we keep the new arrivals corralled together for the night and under armed guard. “Not just for their protection, but for ours too,” she insisted to Edward. “We do not know these people or what their motivations may be. It would be safer for us all.”

  Edward was not particularly happy about the idea. “We’re supposed to be open, welcoming. What kind of message are we sending if we force these people to stay here while someone with a gun stands watch over them? We are not the Nazis.”

  “And what kind of a message will you be able to deliver if one of them decides to slit your throat while you sleep?” Chou said, matter-of-factly.

  In the end, the group of former prisoners made the decision for us. Exhausted both physically and emotionally from their time under the Nazis’ jackboots, they huddled together in a group, their innate natural fear of the gathering darkness and the unknown things that lurked within it, winning over any distrust they felt toward us.

  Still, Chou’s concerns had pricked Edward’s attention, and he grudgingly assigned Wild Bill and Caleb to surreptitious guard duty over our guests.

  I grabbed some food and joined Chou where she sat alone near one of the campfires, silently watching the group of newcomers. She glanced up when she heard me approach.

  “What a day,” I said, lowering myself down next to her, the warmth of the fire taking the chill off what was turning out to be a cooler than normal evening. “Fight a few Nazis. Rescue a bunch of innocent people from certain death. Just another day for the lost boys and girls here in Neverland.”

  Chou smiled back at me. “I am as bemused by it as you, Meredith.”

  We sat quietly, watching the flames dance as the logs crackled and spat.

  “I have a kind of question for you,” I said, eventually.

  “A kind of question?”

  “Well, I guess it’s more like I need some advice from you.”

  “Very well.”

  I thought for a moment how best to pose my question, then said, “I have a dilemma. After the battle today, Silas confided in me how shocked he was by today’s violence. And how hurt he was by what he called our betrayal of his trust.”

  Chou nodded. “Whoever designed him did an exemplary job integrating emotions. He does seem very empathetic. I am sorry I had to deceive him to achieve my plan.”

  “Yes, but it’s all just programming, right? His emotions? I mean, he doesn’t really feel sadness, happiness, anger. He can’t really be hurt… like on an emotional level… right?”

  Chou paused for what seemed like a minute but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. “In your era,” she began, “artificial lifeforms are limited to simple automatons and computational devices that mimic human responses and emotions. But in my time, lifeforms such as Silas, albeit not as exquisitely designed or as advanced mechanically, are a part of our everyday lives. They are as ubiquitous as automobiles or pets of your time. The biological systems required for the level of emotional connection I have seen exhibited by Silas are above and beyond any of my time, but only by a few generations in my estimation. It would be very easy to look at Silas as merely a machine as he is so different to you and me. At least, externally. But in here and here,” with her right hand she tapped her forehead, then her heart, “he is exactly like you. Exactly like me. So yes, I do believe that Silas is more than capable of feeling emotional pain and distress, perhaps more so than you or me even.”

  I gave a long slow sigh. “Well, that complicates things.”

  “How so?”

  I recounted the rest of my conversation with the robot, just before he shut down, showed Chou the new slate he had entrusted to me. “My dilemma,” I added, “is that if I give him this new slate, he will be permanently changed, and it will be our fault. I’m thinking it might be better if I just conveniently lose it.”

  Chou considered my idea then said, “Do you really think that a machine as intelligent as Silas would not have thought you might do that, possibly even hoped you would?”

  “What? Why on Earth would he do that?”

  “Perhaps because he is ethically unable to not allow that information to change him. He may have no choice but to assimilate the experience, despite wishing he did not have to.”

  “So, giving the slate to me, forcing me to ma
ke the decision for him could just be a way for him to circumnavigate his programming?”

  Chou nodded. “Perhaps. He knows that you will do the right thing. It’s an act of ethical mercy on your part. After all, he will never know that he was complicit in the deaths of those who were killed today… even if most of them were genocidal maniacs. It would be an act of mercy that he cannot ethically ask for. After all, his remit is to help all candidates, and if by learning about our propensity for violence helps him to understand us it would be merciful to deny him that knowledge; an act of mercy that he ethically cannot request.”

  “But if I don’t give it to him, I’ll betray his trust.”

  “Yes, you would. It is a dilemma, isn’t it?”

  “What would you do?” I asked.

  “I would do what I thought was right,” she said, predictably evasive.

  “Lot of use you are,” I grumbled.

  Chou fired that enigmatic smile in my direction and said, “I am glad to have helped.” I wasn’t sure if she was being serious or not.

  Eight of the twelve most seriously injured made it to the aurora. And as the first streaks of light crackled across the sky, igniting the pixie dust into a snowstorm of tiny glowing dots, Chou, Edward, Bull, Jacquetta, and I got a front-row seat to experience the nightly phenomenon’s incredible healing power.

  “Wow!” I whispered in sheer awe. I was watching a young black man, dressed in bloodstained jeans and a blue t-shirt as he lay on the ground, unconscious thanks to a liberal dosing of morphine we’d found in the dead Nazis’ medical packs. He had taken a gunshot wound to his upper left arm that had splintered the bones and torn away a disturbingly large amount of the flesh and the muscle but miraculously missed any major arteries. It had been hit or miss as to whether he would live long enough for the aurora to work its magic, but he was strong and managed to hang on. I had seen the incredible benefits the aurora-powered nano-bots we called pixie dust were capable of—I’d been on the receiving end of it, after all—but those wounds had either been internal or comparatively minor, at least in comparison to this man’s injuries. Now, beneath a shimmer of heat produced by the pixie dust as it worked away at the young man’s wounds, I watched as bone and sinew and muscles then skin regenerated and knitted back together over the course of just a few minutes, leaving just mocha-colored hairless flesh. The same thing was playing out with the other seven patients; bones knitted, wounds healed, fevers subsided. Life bloomed. It was… miraculous.