by Boyd Brent
Helen was suddenly standing beside him. “You're going to Krakow alone?”
Anna looked up at her. “Alone? David is never alone.”
David winked at her. “Never alone.” He stood and looked at Alix. “I'd like to speak to you … in private.”
David and Alix stood beside a stream that ferried dead leaves on a dark and swiftly moving current, Alix leaned against a tree and David placed a hand on its bark. She watched as his gaze took in every detail of her face. He sighed and shook his head as though no amount of time was enough time for this madness. “I need to ask you something, Alix.”
“It's about Anna, isn't it?”
“I know it's a lot to ask …”
“I'll stay with her.”
“Only I don't think she has anyone …”
Alix placed a finger to his lips and her eyes filled with tears. “She has me, David. You do what you must, and don't be distracted by worry for us. I'll adopt her and bring her up as my own.”
David held her and told her he would never forget her or Anna. He told her he trusted them both to take care of each other, and that knowing this was already making him stronger and fortifying him for whatever lay ahead. When he stopped talking, Anna stepped from behind the tree. David picked her up and kissed her cheek and handed her to Alix, Anna clung tightly to his neck and said “Thank you” and then went willingly into her arms. David took a mental picture of the two of them. “I'd better not look back …” He turned and walked away.
“Be assured, Alix is going to survive the war,” said Gull. “She will meet a man who …”
“Gull. No. It's enough to know she survives.” He drew a deep breath. “Tell me what becomes of Anna.”
“Anna is going to live to the age of ninety-seven. She will die peacefully at home with her family.”
“She's going to have children?”
“Just one child. A son she will call David.”
Forty four
David sprinted through the forest, the concentration camp five hundred metres to his left. From this area there came a commotion of shouts, barks and revving engines. David was unaware of any of it. He ran past tree after tree, the whites of his eyes scanning the woods.
Within himself, David walked slowly through another forest, one where the stars of his imagination shone perpetually overhead. He walked with hands behind his back and head tilted towards the ground. His mood conjured a lake and a pebble. He picked up the pebble and skimmed it over the lake's surface, where it bounced three times. When it sank, so did the lake, and David walked on. He came upon a tree many times wider and higher than any other in that forest. Gull stepped from behind it. David craned his head up at the tree and whistled through his teeth. “It is my own tree,” said Gull. “It gathers and stores all the information in your memory concerning me.”
“It's a fine tree.”
“Yes. And I hope it is storing fine memories.” David looked at Gull's face, the left side of which looked like a projected avatar of his own face, and on the right-hand side an ever-so-slightly curved view of the forest rushed by outside – a half window onto the world. David watched the forest beyond this window with a melancholy expression. “If the view is distracting, I can replace it,” said Gull.
David looked away. “Let's walk.”
They walked side by side in silence for a time. “I'm sorry you are so melancholy, David. I don't believe I've ever known you so. It is a queer state of mind, if you don't mind my saying. The chemicals it creates in your system are quite unlike those that make you anxious, depressed and sad.”
“I hadn't realised I was such a joy to be around. Anyway, I think it will pass … this feeling of loss.”
“What do you believe you have lost?”
“The possibility of a future, perhaps. A certain kind of future.”
“With Alix?”
“Maybe.”
“Your urge to settle, to nurture a family … it is hot-wired into Man's psyche. Domesticity is a long-outmoded concept. And something you were never destined to experience.”
“I know that, but this desire to propagate runs deep. All of Goliath's handiwork has done little to diminish it. Alix must have woken it … it connects me to the past. This past.” David stopped walking. “I placed my seed inside her.”
Gull observed David with David's own projected eye. “You are well aware that Goliath rendered the final generation infertile. For what it's worth the promise of domesticated bliss was always just that: a promise – a chemically enhanced illusion designed to make men and women procreate and nurture offspring. By the time of the illusion's dispersal, it has proved too late for many, and confined them to a 'treadmill' in order to provide food and shelter for their young.”
“Why do it? Why go to all this trouble to ensure the continuation of a species that's going to perish?”
“Every experiment has its conclusion, and Man is to be the architect of his own demise.”
“Maybe Man grew weary of all these damned chemically enhanced illusions, and subconsciously created Goliath as the instrument of his own demise.”
“An unlikely scenario, if you don't mind my saying.”
David smiled and patted Gull's shoulder.
“You're making a joke. I wish I knew how to laugh, David.”
“That makes two of us.”
“If you've no objections, I have important information to relay.”
“It's why I'm here.” The forest dissolved away and David's toes touched the edge of the unlimited expanse of his imagination. The Event Helix rose up from below like Jack's high-tech beanstalk. Gull magnified an area riddled with dark, twisting Shadow Strands. He placed his hands behind his back and said, “Many of Adler's movements are hidden from us. Therefore, our perceived options for terminating him are limited.”
“How limited?”
“As we know, a man may perceive a multitude of options before him but in reality there is only the one he chooses.”
“Just when I was coming round to the idea that maybe different rules applied to me.”
“A common human conceit. Although no man before you has ever had access to the Event Helix.”
“Well, if he did, it would just indicate a procession of single options. And he'd come across them all eventually.”
“That is profound.”
“But not particularly useful.”
“Often the way with Man's profundity.”
“You having a dig?”
“No. An attempt at banter.”
David looked up at the Event Helix. “So … you see our 'option' in there?”
Gull nodded. “Adler is head of interrogation at SS headquarters. It is located at 2 Pomorska Street, Krakow. This building is also the headquarters of the Order of Police, the Kripo, Sipo, Gestapo, SS economy and administration of Jewish Affairs, and Race and Resettlement. As such it is heavily guarded.”
“Must have a real party atmosphere.”
“You must be referring to the Nazi Party.”
“No. But it doesn't matter.”
Gull looked at him. “You know how important it is for me to learn.”
“Just another joke.”
“Humour is complicated, David.”
“Which explains why I'm not very good at it.”
Gull looked back at the Event Helix. “Adler carries out his interrogations in a purpose-built chamber in the basement. The basement has only one escape route: through a building populated with enemy combatants. We should also be mindful of a vessel tracking us to that location.”
“A location we should probably avoid.”
Gull raised a hand to his projected chin and studied the Event Helix. “If it's still our intention to terminate Adler and outlive Goliath, it cannot be avoided. It is our 'option'.” The Event Helix rotated and came closer. “In just under three hours from now, a man named Antol Bacik will be apprehended at his home by the Gestapo. He will be taken to 2 Pomorska Street for interrogation. In return for th
e lives of his family, an informant has indicated his involvement with the Zegota.”
“Is it true?”
“The validity of the accusation is difficult is to ascertain, but if I were to make an educated guess, I would say that it is true.”
David smiled. “We get arrested in his place, then.”
“It would deliver us safely into the basement of 2 Pomorska Street.”
“And Adler?”
“Adler's job will be to extract a confession about our involvement with the Zegota, and following this morning's activities, I suspect his patience is scant. These patterns indicate that, should we achieve our intended termination of Adler, a Shadow Strand located close to the roof of this building will provide a portal to another point in time.”
David folded his arms across his chest. “You ever get the feeling you're following breadcrumbs with all the intelligence of a hungry chicken?”
“No, David.”
“A portal to where?”
“My educated guess would be the location of Goliath's main artery. For simplicity's sake, let us look upon Adler as a subsidiary artery, the severing of which will trigger the opening of the portal to the main artery – the main artery being the individual whose DNA has contributed to Goliath's actions and personality more than any other.”
“You know who he is?”
“We have both seen him. He was present when we first saw Helen.”
“You're talking about the soldier in my vision. The soldier on horseback.”
“I have been able to locate him. He was a Colonel who led a battalion of soldiers during America's Mexican War. The war ran from 1847 to 1850. At its conclusion he and a number of his men turned renegade and earned the distinction of scalping more Indians than any other faction.”
“Indians?”
“Native Americans. They populated north America before the European settlers arrived. Their scalps became very valuable.”
“So if we kill this Colonel, it's over?”
“Its impact upon the Goliath we know would be catastrophic, which is why he will never let it happen.”
“We've done pretty well so far.”
Gull did not answer. David watched him. “What is it?
“Something I find myself in two minds about communicating at this time. The discovery is new and …”
“Presumably it isn't good news.”
“Why would you make that assumption?”
“You really need to ask? Well? What is it? We need to reach Antol Bacik's apartment … and preferably before this war ends.”
“Relax, David. In here we perceive the passing of time at a fraction of that which is passing outside. We could stand here for the next nine thousand years and still reach Antol Bacik's apartment in time.”
“I'd rather we didn't.”
“I have found myself perplexed.”
“I'm sorry to hear that. Please get to the point.”
“In the latrine Goliath boasted that he had the means to send multiple vessels after us. I have since found evidence that indicates he was being truthful. And yet we have only had to fend off one vessel.”
“That had crossed my mind, but it's not something we should complain about.”
“I have discovered why he has been content to follow this course of action.” Gull folded his arms and looked deeper into the Event Helix.
“You going to take nine thousand years to share that information?”
“I believe Goliath has located important new data.”
“Alright.”
“Data concerning you, David.”
“He wants something other than my death?”
“He knows now that your death alone will not be sufficient to summon the Architects.”
David smiled in a self-congratulatory manner. “I knew my death couldn't be that important.”
“To the contrary. Goliath still covets your death, but now he also covets its location.”
“Why? So he can send flowers?”
“No, David. Your death marks the spot. It is the proverbial X.”
“Only if he pins me out like an empathic starfish.”
Gull looked at David with David's single eye. The eye blinked. “The X marks the location of The Individual.”
“The Individual?”
“My own term for the only person in the history of mankind to glimpse the correct protocols for communicating with the Architects.”
“Glimpse it where?”
“The only place where such a thing is possible: in their imagination.”
“And this protocol … it doesn't involve the pressing of palms and a wish list?”
“Since the protocol is so rare that it has been glimpsed just once since the dawn of mankind, it seems unlikely.”
“And this individual never shared what they knew with anyone?”
“The protocol was conjured during a dream – a dream of which they had no conscious memory. I suspect the ramifications of being consciously party to such information would have threatened their sanity.”
“As it's threatening mine now. And my death marks their location?”
“Yes.”
“So we're not only following a trail a breadcrumbs, we're also leaving one?”
“As the last surviving empath, it seems your death was always destined to reveal The Individual's location.”
“Reveal to who?”
“To any intelligence that has managed to outlive you and seeks it. That is why Goliath has been taking a measured attitude to killing you of late. He knows he can afford to bide his time, and is therefore content to send one vessel at a time in the hope that your death will reveal the location of The Individual sooner rather than later.”
“And what happens when he finds them?”
Gull indicated the woods behind him. “Their memory will be ransacked for the information Goliath requires.”
“I won't lead Goliath to this person.”
“I'm afraid you must. Even if you were to stay here and eventually to die in this wood, it would mean The Individual is located in Poland. As an empath you doubtless feel the need to protect The Individual. Unfortunately, you can only know you have located them once you are dead. As I'm sure you can appreciate, this might be considered too late to render any useful assistance.”
“At least your grasp of humour is improving.”
“Goliath will be content to hurl us against possible exit points in the hope we pass through one. In that respect we are more like a mouse being toyed with by a cat than we are a hungry chicken.”
David chose to ignore this revaluation of their situation. “You indicated that Goliath cannot allow us to terminate this Colonel, which means he'll step things up to prevent it. But what about Adler?”
“He can afford a more relaxed attitude towards the killing of Adler. The DNA passed on to him by Adler's descendants is mainly responsible for his conception and implementation of Petri. And while Petri may never come into existence if we terminate Adler, Goliath will simply utilise other ways of regressing mankind. And more importantly, if a portal is to open for the last empath following Adler's demise, it follows that the location of The Individual may lay somewhere beyond that portal. Since you are faced with the certainty of death at some point, and Goliath can live indefinitely unless he should meet with an excessive act of violence, we are faced with a catch twenty-two. In order to locate The Individual, Goliath simply needs to await your death. And you must die. Given this new information, how do you wish to proceed?”
David gazed into the farthest reaches of his imagination. “Proceed?” A comet of inspiration blazed across the universe above and shook the ground as it plunged into the woods behind them. At that location a new tree took root, and David smiled as it communicated the information he had cast for.
Gull glanced behind them at the bank of trees. “Is it good news, David?”
“Nothing has changed. Goliath needed me dead to summon the Architects before this revelation about Th
e Individual. He still needs me dead, only now for a slightly different reason. And in order to stop Goliath we still need to outlive him. So nothing's changed. Nothing.”
David emerged from the woods and crossed a field. He slid down an embankment to the road. It was the main road that led into Krakow. A motorcycle rider with an empty side-car rounded a bend and sped towards him. The driver wore a tin helmet and goggles, and he leaned forwards into the handlebars. David moved into the middle of the road and waved his arms. The driver slowed and rolled to a stop beside him. He slid his goggles down and looked up at David. “Christ. What happened to you? You heard what happened? The Commandant is dead, and our men have been attacked in the woods. Watch yourself. Some fucking Jews have escaped. Where are you headed?” A moment later his neck was broken and he lay crumpled over the handlebars. David wheeled man and motorcycle off the road and behind a row of trees. He put on the man's helmet and goggles and climbed onto his bike. He kick-started the engine and sped towards Krakow.
Forty five
The streets on the outskirts of Krakow were deserted. David drove past the Jewish ghetto – a ghost town whose previous inhabitants were either dead or close to it. David approached a checkpoint, where he held up the motorcyclist's identity card and continued through. German soldiers walked the streets in groups of twos and threes. Civilians congregated close to street corners to pick over looted furniture.
The apartment building where Antol lived was constructed from slabs of polished black marble, and it looked opulent and portered. David parked the motorcycle in an alley between it and the building next door. The entrance doors were splintered as though they'd been struck by a battering ram, and they creaked open on broken hinges. Inside, the lobby stank of damp and mildew. Black wallpaper speckled with white mould hung from the walls like the tendrils of a dying organism. A cage lift was stuffed with rotting carpet and old wooden crates.
“Antol lives in apartment 6C,” said Gull.
“Top floor?”
“Yes.”
David reached the top of the staircase and turned right. He walked to the end of the corridor and stood outside a black door. He tapped on the door. No response.
