"We will succeed in creating a better world, not because we have superior numbers or superior tactics, but because no one exists to oppose us. We stayed here, so we win by default."
Chris watched Roston. For all his extreme ideas, Roston's plan did have a certain logic to it.
"Why is it taking you so long?" Chris asked. "Couldn't you just instruct the machine to bring all of those things to you, like the treasuries and the weapons and whatnot?"
"The machine has a peculiar quirk," Roston replied. "It can only work with known variables. Our first priority has been acquiring the firing keys to every nuclear weapon on the planet, but I can't just force the machine to do this, because frankly we don't know where all the nukes are. It's not like the people, which the machine could easily identify based on the human chemical makeup. If we told the machine to deliver to us every plutonium-based mechanism in the world, we'd get a lot more than just bombs. We'd get nuclear-powered submarines, power plants, and the like. We've had to search for them by hand, and it's taking some time. Fortunately, we have all the time in the world."
"So when you're done taking control of all the weapons and governments and everything, you'll bring everybody back? Just like that?"
Roston let out an excited breath, nodding. Chris believed the colonel might think that he was beginning to get comfortable with the idea.
"Everyone will be returned safely, no harm done. In fact, in a very real way, we took them out of the picture to protect them while we do what has to be done. We're not threatening them; we're not holding them for ransom. Everything we're doing is for their benefit. We're creating a peace that will last for generations. You should be helping us, Captain. Or at the very least, thanking us."
Chris studied Roston. `And what happens when the people of the world decide they don't want your utopia? What will you do when global society breaks down, and instead of peace, what you've created is mass chaos?"
Roston stood to his full height, no longer excited. "That won't happen," he said. "We'll see to it."
From behind him, a white cloth was pressed into Chris' face, and a sweet, cloying smell filled his nose for just a moment before he passed out.
NINETEEN
Chris opened his eyes.
It was a dark space, very big. He knew this place. He was back in the lava tube again, on Mars. Was this another memory returning?
No, it couldn't be. He knew and remembered everything that happened since thatfateful day on Mars. The quantum machine, the void, Roston. He remembered it all.
Besides, he was standing in a dark lava tube on Mars, yet he was in the clothes bed been wearing at Rice Stadium when he ivas knocked out. And he could breathe justfine.
This was a dream, for certain, not a memos y. Not this time. It was something else.
"Where are we? "
Chris jumped, and spun around. In the near-total absence of light be could just make out the outlines of four people. It was Terry's voice he'd heard ask the question, so he knew at once who the other three were, even though he couldn't really see them. From their faint silhouettes, he could see that they looked just as they had on Earth moments aggro.
"Is this ... ?" said Risha with a trace of awe. "Is this Mars? Are we in the lava tube?"
Chris was stunned. "You're all really here, aren'tyouu? You're not part of my dream-youre dreaming too."
"Wait, you mean this ... it isn't a dream?" remarked Terry. `But it has to be I don't have a leg injury here."
"Hey ... "said Mae. "Itgettin' lighter in here?"
She was right. Chris' eyes were adjusting slowly to a light that was very gradually revealing itself. He was beginning to see the others better, to make out more details of the tunnel, which was exactly as he remembered it. Soon, in the distance behind his friends, Chris spotted a very familiar-looking ball of light.
"George!" he cried.
"Who?" asked Trisha.
"This way.! "said Chris, charging past them. He sprinted, not about to let the ball of light out of his sight this time. He heard his friends following behind.
They ran for less than a minute. Just as it had the last time Chris saw it, soon it stopped and hovered in place, until it began to grow and take on the shape of his father's basement. When every detail of the place had been filled in, Chris stepped through the basement's cement walls to stand inside the big, familiar room. It was like walking into a hologram, only it didn't look in any way fake. It was as if he were really there.
"What s this?" asked Owen.
A place I spent a lot of my time growing tip," Chris replied. "While other kids were off playing cowboys and sports and soldiers, I studied and trained here, under my father's tutelage. "
"So why are we here?" asked Terry.
Chris only shook his head, at a loss. It was just like before, and he didn't understand the significance of it then either.
"Oughta ask him, " commented Mae.
Chris turned to see who she was talking about, and nearly fainted.
An old man stood in their midst, having appeared out of nowhere.
"Who s be?" asked Terry.
"Hello, boy, " said the old man. His gaze was stern and serious, but not unkind.
Chris heard his own words, but didn't, couldn't, wouldn t believe in them. 'He's' myfather"
"Listen to me carefidly," Chris'father began.
"You're dead, "said Chris, in utter shock. They were the only words that came to mind, the only words he was capable of saying.
`By your understanding, I sure am, " his father replied, his words coming fast and urgent. `But that don't matter-"
`Matters to me, " observed Terry, "f we're talking to a dead dude. Means none of this is real. "He blinked and added as an aside to Chris, Sorry, man, that first part came out kind of wrong."
Chris' father put his hands on his hips, a gesture Chris had seen all his life. `Christopher Eugene Burke, you and your friends listen to me right now. I'm dead. And we ain't on Mars. You're in Roston's custody, on your way to the quantum machine. But I was sent across the divide to bring you a message, and you need to hear it, so this is not the time for jokes. You're going to wake up soon, and I have to give you the message before then. I tried to tell it to you the last time you were .here, son, but that machine yanked you out of this place before I could even clear my throat."
Chris still couldn't believe he was standing on Mars, without a space suit, in his childhood home with his four teammates ... talking to his dead father. It felt like his brain had frozen.
His father folded his arms and gave them his hardest poker face. "You were right, boy. What you told Parks and Rowley. It's not chance or luck that the f ve of youu have survived this long. You're not alone in this. Even though itfelt like you were more alone than anyone has ever been ... There's more to lye than what you can see. You were born to this world, but you're meant for another.
"There s a second reality that exists in the same space as the one where you live. A veil separates the two from each other" He faced Chris alone now. "I know you better than anyone, son. I know that your whole life you've tried to push back the curtain and see what's on the other side. Just like I did. just like everyone does. That feelinq is in you, and you can't escape it. You know the veil is there, but you can't see past it.
"I'm .here to tell you that the object inside the Box at the heart of the quantum machine ... is an artfactfrom the other side of the veil. The other side of existence. It's not meant to be here, and it has to be sent back."
What is it.?" Terry asked. "What's the thing inside the Box?"
"It's an artifact-"
"Yeah, " interrupted Chris. `But, Dad ... what is it?"
"There 's no term for it in any human language."
"Dad, please," Chris pleaded. "We need to know. I need to know."
His father studied him for a moment before answering. "You already know. You've seen it before."
As these words were uttered, the basement dissolved and reformed as the floa
ting ball of light. It hovered between Chris and .his father illuminating the tunnel, the strange symbols scrolling off of it like rays of sunshine. Owen, Trisha, Terry, and Mae all stepped near to see it up close.
'But ..... said Terry. I thought looking at the thing in the Box would melt your eyes and kill youu."
"This is lust a glimpse, diminishedfor your bonefit, " replied Chris' father.
"What language is that?" whispered Trisha, studying the symbols as closely as she dared.
`I don't recognize it, " replied Owen.
" 'Course not, " said Chris' father: `It's a language from the other side of the veil. The divine language. "
Dad, " Chris said, his voice just above a reverential whisper now, "what is this thing?"
"Its a shard of the infinite," replied his father, and suddenly he sounded less like the man Chris remembered. Apiece of theprimordial. The tiniest sliver of the Word that was breathed to bring the universe into being."
Five sets of eyes grew wide as they turned from Chris' father to gaze at the ball of light, which rotated and sent off thousands of tiny symbols as they watched it.
"You said this thing came from your side, "said Owen. How did it get over to our side?"
"Something ... has pierced the veil that separates our realities, " said Chris' father. I don't know what, but its happened before, and more than once. And when it happens, powers and principalities and objects, from our side begin to leak into yours. Anytime there s a rift in the veil, it causes an imbalance. An instability. And now that shard is funneling powerfrom my side of the veil to yours. Itposes a catastrophic threat to the fabric of your reality. "
"Dad, can't the rift be repaired from your side?"
His father's eyes danced, as if hed been waiting for Chris to ask this question. "No. The rift originated in your world, and that's where it has to be sealed."
"Then how do we seal it, and get this artifact back where it belongs? "
Destroy the quantum machine."
Chris glanced at his friends. `But were in Roston's custody. We have no weapons, no explosives. How are we supposed to-?"
His father's response was immediate, as Y 'be was expecting this question as well. "Open the Box."
All jive of them turned from the ball of light to face Chris' dad.
Terry raised his hand like an awkward child in school. `But ... whoever opens the Box and looks inside, at the real version offthis thing, will be killed, right?"
"That s right, " Chris' father said, nodding gravely. `But it has to be done. One of you has to open the Box, because there's no one else left alive who'll do it. "
But it s been opened before, "argued Trisha. "That scientist whose eyes were melted-he opened it."
'At that time, the artifact was ... still dormant. The machine has activated it. Its volatile now.
"There's something else," he said. 'And this is important. Whoever opens it has to do it alone."
"Why alone?" asked Chris.
"I asked that same question, son, when I was first given the message. And you know what I was told?"
Chris,just watched and waited.
" No one is ever alone.' I love you, boy. Look after your friends, and he careful."
"Wait, Dad, how do we find the Box? They said its buried somewhere deep inside the machine, and the machine is like a maze-"
"You'll find it the same way you made it this far. " His father had already begun to fade from view as he spoke, but Chris heard the distinct smile in his voice as he said, 'just follow the light. "
In all his life, Christopher Burke had never imagined anything like this could exist.
He sat on a narrow metal gangway, his four friends to his immediate right. They were waking up slowly and taking in their surroundings, just as he was. A group of big soldiers in ski masks stood on the opposite side of the small platform, their guns at the ready should Chris or any of the others make a move out of place. Griffin was one of them.
Chris noted that his friends had been stripped of any remaining weaponry-even Mae's switchblade. But they still wore their visor glasses, protecting their eyes from the blinding light that shone even here. It was definitely coming from somewhere near the center of the machine, that much Chris could see. But unless he could explore further, he wouldn't know where exactly.
These things he took in very quickly, because his surroundings demanded his full attention.
A soft thrumming surrounded the five of them where they sat. It sounded like something between a mechanical drone and a heartbeat.
The Waveform Device, the machine responsible for the disappearance of every living creature on Earth, held them in its jaws. Roston wanted them to see what he controlled, wanted them to understand.
Chris remembered how Parks and Rowley had talked about the machine being added on to for seventy years, and looking at it now, he wondered where anything new might be put. The Vault was a box-shaped chamber barely big enough to contain the quantum machine. The machine was bursting at the seams, like tree roots pressing against an underground brick wall.
Chris could think of no words.
The Vault was well lit, with large, bright spotlights scattered about irregularly. Metal catwalks, like the one on which they stood, stretched out in every direction, some of them leading to grated steps that led up or down, while others went on farther than Chris could see.
He gazed down through the railing behind him. They were high up inside the thing, though not at the very top. He could see several levels below, with ramps and steps leading up and down, crisscrossing and surrounding every part of the machine. But it went down farther than he could make out; in the deepest part, it was dark and murky, like a foggy swamp at night.
Was the Box down there, somewhere beyond what he could see?
As for the structure, the walls, ceiling, and ground floor were all made of the same dismal gray poured concrete. Dozens of thick, round concrete pillars stretched all the way to the top and down into the shadowy depths. The pillars were the one symmetrical touch in the chamber, towers of concrete holding up the ceiling every fifty feet or so.
But despite the Vault's enormity, the machine it held was all the more staggering.
The Waveform Device was the one and only focus of the giant room, and his eyes slid over its endless cascading pipes and supports and wire bundles and LED lights. The thing had no discernible shape, so if there was a starting point or an ending anywhere, he couldn't locate them. It was exactly as Parks and Rowley had described it, organic and sprawling, like the microscopic neural pathways of the brain, only massive and electric and real.
There were hundreds of keypad terminals and huge glowing screens lining the catwalks, and whirring motors and billowing air assaulted Chris' senses from multiple directions. He imagined that a machine this big, with an infinite number of moving parts, would require a sophisticated cooling system, but it appeared as though the scientists who built the thing had simply added portable fans and airconditioning units throughout its massive framework over the years.
But something wasn't right. Smoke or steam was releasing into the air here and there, though the blowing fans caught most of it, redirecting it to the outer peripheral cement walls. A few wild arcs of electricity moved their way through the inner recesses of the machine like horizontal lightning. Chris had a feeling they weren't supposed to be there.
The machine's color palette was mostly gray or chrome, with a scant few other colors visible in a handful of spots. The support beams, stairs, and catwalks were all painted black, making them easy to distinguish from everything else.
The collective effect was like sitting within a humongous creature that was alive. Caged in an underground prison, but living and breathing and trying to understand itself.
But Chris never had any doubt that it was a man-made construct; it was random and imprecise in the extreme, entirely function over form.
Chris turned to his friends again, to see their reactions. Mae, who was on the far end of
the row from him, had a strained look on her face as her gaze moved around the big machine.
"It's going to be okay," whispered Terry, sitting next to her. "Don't be afraid."
Mae was lost in thought. Slowly, she seemed to hear him, then turned to face him. "Not afraid."
Chris watched her closely and decided she really wasn't afraid.
The entire room shuddered, and one of the soldiers nearly lost his balance. The great machine shook with the surge-or was the machine the cause of it? Chris wasn't sure.
"Magnificent, isn't it?" called out the voice of Mark Roston. He ascended a set of stairs to their immediate right, and walked to the end of the row to stand across from Chris. "So what do you think?"
Chris wasn't sure what to say. Truth be told, he was frightened by the machine, by its scope and power, and the fact that it had been crafted by the hands of men.
Or was Roston asking about himself, and his plan? Chris couldn't deny being moved by Roston's story, but the man was still insane to think he could actually pull something like this off; the people of the world wouldn't stand for it. And Chris didn't believe for one second that creating a utopia was his real aim.
Roston wanted revenge. He wanted to show the people in powerwho'd given him his orders that fateful night during the war-that they were wrong.
He looked up at the parts of the machine that towered over them, and felt the vibrations in the catwalk that spelled disaster for this monstrosity.
"I think that this kind of power was never meant to fall into the hands of mortal men," Chris replied at last. And I don't see how it can possibly last."
"Oh, come on, Captain!" Roston said, turning sour. "What's done is clone. What's built is built. When I learned of this incredible device and what it could do, I realized what an opportunity it offered to change things for the better! And I took it! Now, I need you to very carefully consider your next move."
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