Diffusion Box Set

by Stan C. Smith

  “Have you contacted anyone in the states?”

  “Where are your passports?”

  During all of this, Ashley and Carlos sat quietly staring at the plastic hospital flip-flops on their feet. The men weren’t asking Addison any questions directly; obviously they didn’t know he was what this was all about.

  Eventually the truck slowed down and made several turns before coming to a stop. There were shouts and then a metal door shutting. When the back of the truck opened, they were inside a large building, like an airplane hangar. They climbed out of the truck. Other soldiers worked at various jobs around the hangar, and they stopped what they were doing to stare. Colonel Richards took them to one end of the hangar where there was a narrow hallway with doors, and they entered one of the rooms. Small tables had been pushed together to make one large table in the middle of the room with metal folding chairs around it.

  They sat around the table, and some men brought pitchers of water and a stack of paper cups. One of the men said that restrooms were in the hall, but no one got up to use them. Colonel Richards sat at one end of the table, between two other men in green uniforms. One of them turned on a voice recorder and placed it on the table.

  Richards cleared his throat. “Folks, I appreciate the fact that you have suffered an ordeal, but we’ve got a situation on our hands, and you people have made it worse.”

  Mr. Darnell shifted in his seat. “A situation?”

  Colonel Richards frowned at him. “You were in Wamena when it started, were you not? On July twelfth? Flare-up between the OPM and Indonesian forces. Some indigenous Papuans were shot. Nothing new. But Washington, in its infinite wisdom, decided we should get involved. That didn’t go over well. Things have been hairy around here since. Washington realized the mistake in short order, and we’ve toned it down.” Richards waved his hand. “This facility is a temporary base for conciliation measures. The climate had become almost quiet—until today. We get orders to pull you folks out, bring you stateside pronto. We show up. Tempers are short at the get-go. Recipe for a Charlie Foxtrot, which is exactly what we got.”

  Bobby didn’t know what a Charlie Foxtrot was, but he got the idea.

  Richards rose from his chair and leaned forward with his hands on the table. “Now I need some straight answers. It seems your flight out of Wamena was part of the evacuation fiasco, correct? And you say your plane went down in the jungle?”

  They all nodded.

  “Folks,” Richards said, “we’re working up a scenario for getting you back to the States without inciting a war. I don’t know yet how that’s going to shake out.” He paused. “The circumstances are atypical. We’ve got a firefight that started for God knows why and didn’t end well for two Indonesian police. We’ve got Indonesian personnel who are missing. We’ve got doctors claiming you possess something that belongs here with them. And we’ve got three dead animals in a public hospital. I’m no expert, but they look like goddamn dinosaurs. You’re not going to tell me those things live here in the jungle, are you?”

  “No, we’re not,” Mr. Darnell said.

  Colonel Richards nodded his head at this. “And so, here we are.”

  After providing hopelessly confusing answers to some of Colonel Richards’s questions, Quentin suggested they simply tell their story from the beginning. This time they told everything. They even described the hanging village and the ancient Papuans who lived there. Samuel resisted this at first, but Quentin explained that these were representatives of the United States, that the village would be safe. Samuel was dubious but conceded he would have to trust Quentin’s judgment.

  Throughout the inquisition, Colonel Richards’s face was granite. Even as they explained their dreams revealing the Lamotelokhai’s origin, and that Samuel had lived in the forest for a century and a half, his face showed nothing more than mild interest. He didn’t even take notes, apparently relying on his memory and the recorder to document the entire conversation. There was no telling if he believed a single word of their story.

  The interrogation continued into the evening. Quentin eventually explained Bobby’s attempts to communicate with the Lamotelokhai using the rules of Kembalimo. At this, Richards frowned.

  “Kembalimo? You mean the language software?”

  Quentin glanced at Bobby, who nodded. “I thought it was just a game,” Quentin said.

  Richards leaned forward on his elbows. “It’s much more than a game. How could this thing buried in the jungle understand Kembalimo?”

  Quentin shrugged. “Good question.”

  Richards grunted. “It appears Peter Wooley may have some explaining to do.”

  Samuel had been silent for some time, but suddenly he spoke up. “Bobby has told me of this Peter Wooley. I believe that I have known the man.”

  All eyes turned to him.

  Richards said, “If you’ve been living like an ape in the jungle for a hundred and fifty years, how could you know Peter Wooley?”

  “Who is Peter Wooley?” Quentin asked.

  Richards spoke without taking his eyes off Samuel. “Developer of Kembalimo.”

  Samuel put his palms on the table. “Sir, could you tell me more about this Peter Wooley?”

  “Brilliant man, supposedly. Developed the software algorithms that make Kembalimo work. Folks say it may change the way we all communicate. Wooley is head of SouthPacificNet. He’s damn rich, but oddly enough, not from Kembalimo. He’s an eccentric. Won’t allow Kembalimo to be sold. Wants everyone to use it for free.” Richards scrutinized Samuel as if waiting for an explanation.

  “Samuel?” Quentin said. “This isn’t the Peter you told me about is it? The one who came to the village?”

  Samuel leaned back in his chair. “The evidence seems to suggest it, though I was a witness to his death. Peter was killed before my eyes.”

  “That is correct,” Addison said. It was the first he had spoken since they had entered the room. “The villagers killed Peter. But Peter asked me to help him.”

  “But I saw it. He was beaten beyond hope of repair.”

  “You are correct. Peter was reconstructed.”

  Bobby said, “You mean like you reconstructed Ashley?”

  Addison nodded. It was a gesture Quentin hadn’t seen the Lamotelokhai use before.

  A smile formed on Samuel’s face. “Then it is he. It is indeed Peter.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Richards said.

  “It is he,” Samuel repeated. “That is how he has created this Kembalimo you speak of. It must be. Even the name itself—Kembalimo—this is a word used by the indigenes. Its literal meaning is, to return.”

  Quentin pushed away from the table and stood up. He paced the room, pondering this revelation. The man who had stumbled upon the hanging village over forty years ago was the very same man who had created Kembalimo. Peter Wooley must have learned to communicate with the Lamotelokhai using the same symbols Bobby had used. When he had left the village, he took this knowledge with him.

  Richards eyed Samuel intensely. “You’re telling me you’ve personally met Peter Wooley, even though you’ve been hiding in the jungle since men fought with muskets?”

  Samuel’s eyes sparkled as he spoke. “Colonel Richards, for a short time Mr. Wooley was a guest in the village of my indigene hosts. I considered him a friend, although I have doubts he would say the same of me. Until recently, I believed him to be dead.”

  Richards shook his head and let out a grunt that may have been a laugh. “Very well, then.” He waved his hand for Quentin to be seated. “Please continue.”

  As Quentin continued the story, the men on either side of Richards frequently left the room. After talking on their phones in the hall, they would return and whisper to Richards before sitting down, only to repeat this a few minutes later. Finally, Quentin asked what they were doing.

  “We are currently involved in a diplomatic dance with the Indonesians,” Richards said. “Lives were lost today. They want restituti
on. And frankly, they want you people.”

  Quentin considered this. Perhaps it didn’t matter if Richards believed them or not, as long as he was willing to get them safely to the United States.

  Lindsey spoke up. “Colonel Richards, we would like to have access to a telephone.” She nodded toward the cell phone held by one of the men. “The students’ families deserve to hear from them and know that they are alive.”

  Richards exchanged a glance with the man next to him and rubbed his chin. “We have been ordered to restrict your communication until things are ironed out. There are unanswered questions.”

  “What questions?” Lindsey asked.

  “Questions such as those we are exploring now. Shall we move on?”

  And so the talking continued. With difficulty, Quentin told of Addison killing the villagers and then killing Miranda. Richards looked at Addison warily.

  “Don’t worry,” Quentin said. “My son Addison is no longer with us. This is not really Addison.”

  “Then who is he?” Quentin found a little satisfaction in the look of genuine confusion and alarm on Richards’s face.

  Samuel spoke up. “What you see before you is the Lamotelokhai itself. It has disguised itself so that we could bring it to those in your home country who would use it with wisdom. A great moral responsibility is upon you, sir. We trust that you will act accordingly.”

  The colonel’s next words were low and commanded their attention. “You want me to believe this boy is not human, that he is some kind of computer sent from an extraterrestrial civilization?”

  Lindsey placed her elbows on the table. “This morning, would you have believed that you would be killing dinosaurs in a hospital?”

  Richards just stared at her.

  “It’s true, sir,” Gregory said. “I didn’t believe it either, but the boy gave me some sort of drug and I had these incredible visions—.” Gregory then seemed to realize this didn’t sound the way he had intended. He spoke to Addison. “Maybe you should show him, too.”

  Gregory was right. Richards would need proof. Quentin looked at Bobby and their eyes locked. But instead of jumping at the chance to help as he had so many times before, Bobby just lowered his gaze. Quentin felt a pang of guilt for expecting so much of him. Bobby no doubt felt responsible for the bloody scene at the hospital.

  “What do you want me to do?” Addison said.

  Lindsey said, “Colonel Richards needs to understand what you are.”

  “But don’t do anything that will hurt people,” Bobby added.

  Addison reached under his hospital shirt and pulled out a brown lump like the one he had given to Gregory. As he walked around the table, the men next to Richards stiffened. He held it out to Richards.

  The Colonel glanced at Gregory. “Is this the drug you took?”

  “I don’t know if I would call it a drug. But yes.”

  Richards took the object and handed it to the man on his left. “Get this to our doctors and have them figure out what the hell it is.” The man took it and left the room.

  Addison spoke without expression. “The purpose of the substance is to help you understand. You should eat it.”

  Richards grunted. “Like hell I should.” He pointed across the table. “Please take your seat, son.”

  Addison looked at Bobby.

  “Show him in a different way,” Bobby said, “but don’t hurt him.”

  There was no detectable delay between Bobby’s last word and what happened next. Colonel Richards was simply gone. There was a loud pop where his body had been as air rushed in to fill the vacuum. A wisp of water vapor swirled in the air briefly and then vanished. Quentin blinked. The remaining man who sat next to Richards was so startled he practically toppled over in his chair.

  “What the hell?” It was Richards. The voice came from outside the door, in the hallway. The door burst open and Richards stepped in. His face had gone white.

  The man at the table said, “Sir, are you alright?”

  Richards looked around him, and then down at his shaking hands. “What was that?” he said to Addison.

  “It would take time to fully explain. Working together, the parts of my body are able to change some properties of the area near me, such as properties of space and time. What I did to you was simple. The spaces in this room and outside the door are known to me. I did this to help you understand. It is a capability I have that you might find useful.”

  Richards put his hands on his chest, as if making sure he was in one piece. Then he looked up and said, “Can you do that again?”

  There was another pop and a thin cloud where his body had stood. The rest of them simply stared at the spot, speechless.

  Another cry came from the hall, this time a burst of delight. The door flew open again, and Richards entered the room. He gaped at Addison. He then pulled his eyes away and leveled his gaze at Quentin. “I may be slow, but I’m not stupid,” he said. “I’m starting to get the point. Lumenick!” he barked at the other man. “I don’t care what it takes, but see to it that the negotiations get wrapped up. We’re taking these people stateside, and we’re doing it now.”

  The man stood. “Yes, sir!” He nearly stumbled over his own feet to get out the door.

  Bobby didn’t get it. Addison makes someone disappear and then appear on the other side of a wall, and now Colonel Richards seemed—finally—to believe them. Seeing live dinosaurs wasn’t enough for him, but getting zapped through a wall was.

  Colonel Richards ordered all the soldiers to drop whatever they were doing and guard the building. The group was taken to a bigger room with tables at one end and sleeping cots at the other. Green curtains hanging on metal frames separated the cots into sleeping cubicles. Men and women with guns stood near the doors, and more talked and yelled outside. Colonel Richards said he had to go talk to the Indonesians, and he asked if Addison needed anything special like electricity, or some other power source. Bobby grinned at this. Addison told him no, he would be fine.

  And so they finally had a chance to clean up and get some rest. There were two bathrooms, and Bobby took his first shower since they had left the losmen in Wamena, thanks to hoses rigged from the pipes below the sinks to the tops of metal curtain frames. To Bobby it was the best shower in the world. Water splattered his skin and ran onto the floor, brown from grime and dried blood. Bobby gazed down at his naked body. It looked strange, like it belonged to someone else—someone older, more grown up. His pubic hair was thick and dark, and there was a shadow of fine black hairs from there down the inside of each of his legs. After scrubbing the dirt away, Bobby realized his skin was now darker. Even though they had spent most of the time in the forest’s dim shadows, somehow he was tan, except around his groin where his pant scraps had been tied. He ran his hand over his chest, feeling the scar from the tribesman’s spear. He was glad the scar hadn’t disappeared completely.

  Bobby turned off the water from below the sink, dried off, and slipped back into his blue hospital clothes and flip-flops. Except for Addison, the others had showered before him, and now they were gathered around a table piled high with packages of junk food.

  Carlos shot him a look as he approached and said, “Dinner.” The single word came out around a mouthful of orange cheese puffs.

  Bobby salivated as he inspected the pile. It looked like someone had emptied an entire snack machine on the table. There were candy bars, pretzels, oatmeal cookies, animal crackers, and all kinds of chips—a grand mountain waiting to be conquered.

  Bobby guessed it was dark outside, but he had no way to know. In spite of being tired he didn’t want to miss whatever might happen next. The others must have felt the same way, because they sat around the table even after they were too full too eat. Colonel Richards came into the room occasionally to check on them. The third time he came in, he asked Gregory to go with him. Within minutes Gregory came back, frowning.

  He stood looking at them for a moment. He pulled one of the chairs from the table
and sat. “It’s funny—I only just met you folks this morning, but in one day you have turned my life upside down.” He tried to smile, but it looked forced. Then he said, “Just spit it out, Stamper! It seems my role here is no longer important. I have been asked to go on about my business.”

  After some uncomfortable silence, Mr. Darnell said, “You’ve been a great help to us, Gregory. I hate to think of where we might be now if you hadn’t been there.”

  Gregory got up and shook Mr. Darnell’s hand. “I would like to believe I’ve played a role in this, despite how small it may have been. At this moment, I am one of the few who know the world is about to change.” He reached out to shake Mrs. Darnell’s hand, but she hugged him instead. He then moved around the table to shake everyone’s hands.

  When he got to Addison, he said, “I hardly know what to say to you. In spite of what you may see from some of us, please know you are welcome here. I hope you can help us learn to use your knowledge wisely.”

  The Lamotelokhai eyed him curiously. “If there are others like you where we are going, that should be easy.” Addison then shook Gregory’s hand, mimicking what the others had done.

  Quentin wasn’t convinced it was safe for Gregory to leave the compound, but Richards assured them Gregory would have protection until he caught his flight to the interior, where he would join his research team. And so Gregory left.

  Perhaps an hour passed before Richards entered the room again and instructed Samuel to come with him. They returned a short time later. Richards and half a dozen men stood by the door as Samuel approached Quentin and the others.

  Samuel sighed deeply before speaking. “It seems that your countrymen and the officials here have come to an accord. To put it to few words, all of you are to be allowed free passage if I remain here.”

  A flurry of protests filled the air. Samuel held up his hands to silence them. “I have agreed.”