by A. G. Taylor
Sarah held his gaze. “Yes. Just why did you do that?”
“Gas you?” Makarov replied, taking a sip of tea and putting the cup down. “When you opened the cockpit door I was worried you were going to tamper with the controls. My autojet is a prototype. The instrumentation is very sensitive and emotions were running high after your escape from Major Bright. It would have been easy to cause a fatal crash. It was absolutely for your own protection.”
Around the table the other kids nodded, as if his explanation made perfect sense. Sarah shook her head in exasperation. It was like she’d fallen asleep and woken up at the Mad Hatter’s tea party.
“Excuse me,” she protested, rising from her seat and placing her hands on the stone table. “But am I the only one here who finds this all a little strange? I mean, look at where we are.” She indicated the grass and the blue sky above them through the pyramid. “Yesterday we were in Australia and now this guy” – she waved a hand at Makarov – “whisks us off to somewhere in Russia. I really don’t know what to say.”
“Thank you would be a start,” Alex said. “Or perhaps you’re forgetting it was Nikolai who actually saved us from Major Bright.”
Sarah turned her attention to him. “Of course, you would say that. You’re his right-hand man.”
Sarah, Robert thought at her side. Take it easy.
Take it easy? she said. Didn’t you hear me calling you down there? I thought something had happened.
Sarah, we’re fine, Robert reassured her. It must have been the after-effects of the gas blocking your psychic communication.
Right, or someone blocking me, she said, casting a sideways glance at Makarov.
Why would he do that?
I don’t know, but I’m going to find out… She trailed off as she saw Robert’s expression becoming increasingly worried. Looking round the faces of the others turned towards her, Sarah realized she wasn’t achieving anything by losing control. Taking a breath, she took her seat again and reached under the table to give Robert’s hand a squeeze.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was being rude.”
“Your concern is quite understandable,” Makarov replied, pressing his fingertips together as if he were about to pray, “as are your questions. I apologize for using the sleep gas on you and the others, Sarah. I thought it was for the best. Do you forgive me?”
Sarah gave Robert a reassuring look and then nodded. The tall man smiled as if satisfied with her response. Carefully, she reached out with her mind, testing the edges of Makarov’s consciousness, trying to work out what he was really thinking. She sensed nothing. It was like looking into a cloudy lake, impenetrable and unfathomably deep. For whatever reason, Makarov was shielding his thoughts from her and, more to the point, he had the power to do so.
“I know being brought to such a remote part of the world must be disconcerting,” he continued, giving no indication he had sensed Sarah’s effort to probe, “but it is my home and normal to me. My personal jet is at your disposal to fly you to any location around the globe. Even back to Australia, if that’s what you want.”
“Not likely,” Octavio snorted. “You should’ve seen where we were living. This place is a big improvement.”
Louise turned to Sarah, unable to control her excitement. “He’s right, Sarah! Wei and I have been up for hours and we went exploring. There is so much cool stuff here. There’s a pool on the 128th floor.”
“And a cinema,” Wei added. “And a games suite.”
“And there’s a park even bigger than this one,” Louise continued. “We can stay a while, can’t we?”
Sarah looked around the group, realizing that everyone was looking at her. Including Makarov.
“I was hoping you’d stay a few days, at least,” he said. “You’ve all been running so long. Don’t you feel tired? Wouldn’t it be nice to rest here just for a short time?”
Sarah thought there was a hypnotic quality to the way he spoke – so measured and calm. Was that what he was trying to do – hypnotize them? If so, the others didn’t seem to realize it. Once again they were looking at her, awaiting her response. She threw up her hands in exasperation.
“All I want to do right now is eat!” she said and the tension broke.
Robert and Louise began piling her plate with breakfast items: bacon, eggs, sausage and mushrooms. Her stomach rumbled uncontrollably and she realized that it was probably over a day since she’d last eaten. She picked up a fork and took a bite of bacon – it was just about the best thing she’d ever tasted and it was all she could do to stop herself from devouring the whole plate in one.
“Don’t mind us,” Nestor told her. “We’ve all been pigs.”
Sarah started tucking in. She might not trust Makarov yet, but his food was great.
“Now, where were we?” the Russian said as she proceeded to clean her plate.
“You were going to tell us about how you got your powers,” Octavio answered.
“Yes, quite right,” Makarov said with a nod. “I was exposed to the fall virus, just like all of you have been. As you know, exposure causes the development of special abilities in a very small number of people.”
“But only in children,” Wei interrupted.
Makarov waggled a finger at him. “Excellent point, and you’re quite right, I was a child at the time. This was many years ago, of course. I would say that I was one of the very first humans to be affected by the fall virus – eight years old and living with my father in a central area of Russia near the Tunguska River. I was getting ready for school when the meteorite hit less than thirty kilometres from our house.”
“What was it like?” Louise asked, leaning forward. Makarov really had everyone’s attention now – even Sarah stopped eating.
“The blast wave from the impact broke every window in our home and knocked my father off his feet. There was a sound like a hundred thunderclaps and the sky went dark as night.” Makarov stopped abruptly, as if considering something. “But perhaps it’s easier to show you. Everyone close your eyes for a moment. Please.”
Around the table the children did as he asked, including Sarah. Slowly, an image began to form in their minds…
Makarov – young now, only eight – runs across a swaying field of wheat towards a line of trees. In the distance the sound of something like thunder rolls and a shadow falls across the sun. Makarov turns to look back towards a farmhouse in the distance. A cloud of dust is rising behind the building, covering the sky. There is red light in the cloud – a wall of flame the height of a tree.
A bearded man – his father – runs across the field as the fire engulfs the house. “Nikolai, run!”
The boy turns and continues to flee as the wheat catches alight. The sky is black as night now and ash is falling all around. His father grabs Makarov and pulls him along. Before them, fire sparks amidst the trees and in seconds they are ablaze.
“Where can we go?” Makarov asks as they draw up short.
“The river,” his father replies, dragging him off to the side as the flames race across the field at an alarming rate.
They reach an incline and clamber down towards the sound of running water. The air temperature is increasing rapidly and the atmosphere is clogged with smoke now. The ground is muddy and steeply sloped. Makarov slips as they descend, but his father holds firmly onto his wrist.
“Into the river!” the man orders. “It’s our only hope!”
Makarov plunges into the water, which feels icy cold after the heat of the field, and his father follows afterwards. Behind them, a wall of fire forms along the top of the ridge, sending searing waves of heat in their direction. Red hot embers from the trees fall all around, sizzling against the surface of the water as they land. Makarov screams as one of them touches his neck.
“Get to the middle!” his father cries, pushing him forward in the water. On the other side of the river, people are running down the bank to escape another wall of fire. One man is burning and plunges into the
water with a sickening hiss. Smoke rises where he hits, but the man does not surface again.
Almost in the middle of the river now, the current begins to take hold and Makarov finds himself being carried downstream. He turns, arms outstretched, but his father is fighting his way across the river to help a younger child struggling to keep her head above water.
“Father!” Makarov yells.
“Swim against the current, Nikolai!” his father calls back, not looking round. “I have to help them.”
Makarov yells at him again, but he’s being carried too far away now for his father to hear above the roar of the fires from either side of the river. For a moment he tries to fight against the current, but it’s no use. Giving in, he allows himself to be swept away as all around him the world burns…
The vision ended and they opened their eyes. For a few seconds, no one around the table spoke, shocked by the vision of hell they’d been shown. Makarov still had his eyes closed. His face looked suddenly drained, as if from the effort of showing them his memory.
“What happened to your father?” Nestor asked finally, breaking the silence.
“I never saw him again,” Makarov replied, opening his eyes. “I can only assume he died in the fires.”
“He was a hero,” Robert said.
Makarov raised an eyebrow. “Was he? I would have preferred he survived rather than sacrifice himself for strangers.” He made no effort to disguise the bitterness in his voice.
“What happened to you?” Louise asked.
“I floated further along the river,” said Makarov. “I was carried past burned farmland and entire forests that had been flattened by the impact. That one meteorite caused the same devastation as an atomic bomb. Finally, I was picked up by a group of priests who were fleeing the destruction. My entire family died in the Tunguska event, so they took me in and raised me. I guess I owe them my life.”
“What about the fall virus?” Nestor asked.
“There were victims,” Makarov answered. “As I’m sure you know, the virus is extraterrestrial in origin: carried across the universe on lumps of rock and debris. The ruling powers of the time would not entertain stories of an alien disease. So, it was covered up.”
“That’s quite a story,” Sarah said, laying her knife and fork down.
Makarov turned his gaze on her. Sarah sensed his mind reaching out, trying to read her thoughts, but she put up a mental wall and blocked his attempt to probe, just as he had done to her earlier. A smile flickered across Makarov’s lips and he gave the slightest nod, as if acknowledging the power of another psychic.
“I’m sure the story of your brush with a meteorite is equally amazing, Sarah,” he replied. “But I’ll find out all the details soon enough.”
“Only if I let you,” she answered, aware that the rest of the table was regarding their exchange with interest.
Makarov laughed and clapped his hands together unexpectedly. “Well, enough of all this morbid talk. If you’ve all had your fill, let me show you my home!”
“Yeah!” Wei exclaimed. “I want to see the computers again!”
Beside him, Louise was almost bouncing out of her chair in excitement. As Makarov rose from his seat a shape appeared from the trees at the edge of the park. Sarah’s eyes widened – for a moment she was convinced a wolf was walking across the grass towards them. Then she saw that its body was metallic. The “animal” was in fact a robot.
“What is it?” Louise asked in wonderment as the robot moved to Makarov’s side and stood there. It was indeed doglike – designed around the body shape and size of a wolf, although instead of fur and skin, it was covered in dark, polished steel. Two ears atop its angular head were permanently pricked and looked as sharp as razor blades. Its eyes were slits that pulsed rhythmically through various shades of red. Along the side of its body a distinctive slash of white stood out against the dark metal.
“Meet Balthus,” Makarov replied, indicating the machine. “I suppose you could call him my pet. He’s in fact one of a line of robots I created to replace huskies in the harsh Chukotkan environment. They’re much better suited to the cold and never get fatigued. I call them robowolves.”
“Can I pat him?” Louise asked, moving forward.
A low electronic noise that sounded very much like a snarl came from Balthus. Louise froze.
“Balthus, behave!” Makarov chided the robowolf, walking over to reassure the girl. “I’m sorry, Louise. He’s designed as a work dog, so his manners aren’t always the best.” He leaned towards her conspiratorially. “I’ll reprogram him to fetch a stick. Now, let’s have our tour.”
With that he started across the grass towards the lift, Balthus padding along at his side. The others got up from the table and followed. Alex hung back to walk beside Sarah.
“There, I told you he was one of the good guys,” he said to her quietly.
“Right,” she replied. “Too bad his meteorite story doesn’t add up.”
Alex looked at her questioningly.
“Haven’t you ever heard of the Tunguska event?” she went on, unable to keep the smugness from her voice. “It was a meteorite that hit Siberia, Russia, last century. I read all about it on the web when we were in Melbourne.”
“So?”
“So, it struck in 1908,” she replied, popping a last piece of toast in her mouth. “Which would make Nikolai Makarov…”
“Over a hundred years old,” Alex finished for her.
They both looked over at Makarov as he stepped into the lift and beckoned for the others to follow him in.
“But I’m sure there’s a very good reason why he would lie to us,” Sarah said as she walked ahead. “Right?”
“Right,” Alex replied, a feeling of unease beginning to stir in his belly.
19
Sarah had to admit, the Spire was impressive.
Their bedrooms were located between the 129th and 131st floors, which seemed designed solely for guest accommodation. Above this, on the 132nd floor, was a fitness level, featuring a gym and a swimming pool as big as Sarah had ever seen. Floor 148 was packed with enough computer, audio-visual and games equipment to keep Wei and Louise entertained for the next twenty years. A museum stocked with relics from antiquity as well as items from twentieth century history stretched across the 80th floor. Then there was the library (146th floor), the indoor tennis and squash courts (145th) and the ballroom (143rd).
Makarov led them through successive levels, delighting in showing off his toys. At every ooh and aah from the group, he would give a satisfied laugh and assure them that they hadn’t seen anything yet.
“The Spire has the best of everything,” he said. “The best the twenty-first century has to offer in terms of technology, knowledge and leisure. I like to think of it as a repository for everything humankind has achieved up to this point.”
“A repository?” Nestor asked, with a glance at Sarah, as they approached the lift to another level. “You make it sound as if you’re preserving things here.”
“Yeah,” Sarah pressed, “are you expecting something to happen?”
Makarov waved his hand through the air. “I learned from my childhood experience that civilization is fragile. Who knows when something is just going to fall from the sky and wipe out everything we’ve achieved? I want to make sure that can never happen. Each of my towers is designed to withstand any extreme event that is thrown at it. Whether that be an earthquake, a nuclear explosion or even a meteorite strike.”
He looked round at them on the threshold of the lift and smiled. “Nothing will bring this tower down. I’d bet my life on it.” He let this sink in for a moment, before nodding towards the waiting lift. “Come on, let me show you the jungle.”
The park inside the pyramid on the 153rd floor had been something to see, but there was an even more impressive one across the 140th and 141st floors – a simulated rainforest environment filled with exotic plants and birds.
“How does anything grow in h
ere?” Robert marvelled as they walked along a grassy avenue under the trees. The atmosphere was humid, tropical. “There’s no windows on this level.”
“Tungsten bulbs in the ceiling work as sunlight simulators,” Makarov replied, strolling up ahead. Beside him the robowolf, Balthus, moved along almost silently despite its size. “The temperature is regulated by the Spire’s central computer. There’s even a rainstorm every day at 4 p.m. It’s the closest you’ll get to a rainforest without going to the Amazon.”
Sarah watched a green and yellow parrot fly through the trees above their heads. “It’s amazing. I’m just trying to work out why you need it.”
Makarov looked at her as if the question was a stupid one. “Why? Why not? The Spire is designed to be a completely self-contained environment. A person could spend his life within its walls and never feel the need to step outside.”
“Wow,” Sarah replied. “That’s kind of a weird idea.”
Octavio piped up, “Sarah doesn’t feel comfortable living in all this luxury, Nikolai. Slums are more her speed.”
“Octavio,” Nestor warned.
“My hope is that one day all people will live like this,” Makarov continued. “I grew up in poverty. It is my belief that everyone should live like kings. And one day, with the help of my technology, we all will.”
One of the uniformed women appeared through the trees and whispered something in Makarov’s ear. With a sigh, he turned to the group.
“Business calls. This is going to keep me occupied for the rest of the day, I’m afraid. Please explore the rest of the upper levels of the Spire to your hearts’ content. Catch a movie. Go for a swim. Relax. After everything you’ve been through, you’ve earned it.”
He started towards the exit, but turned after a few steps.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I only have one rule – please don’t venture below the 90th floor of the Spire.”
“Why?” Sarah asked. “What’s down there?”
