by Rod Rees
‘I’m afraid ABBA has, with regard to certain crucial aspects of its responsibilities, seen fit to become … uncooperative. Where ambiguities in its programming allow, ABBA has demurred from acting as per our instructions.’
‘I’m sorry: ambiguous programming?’
‘Necessarily ambiguous programming,’ interjected Thaddeus Bole. ‘Latitude had to be given to the machine in order to enhance its heuristic abilities.’
‘But … but … but …’ Rivets decided to get a grip and to stop butting. ‘Surely all that’s necessary is to reconfigure ABBA’s programming.’
‘ABBA has denied us access,’ said a very despondent-sounding Septimus Bole. ‘The machine has refused to permit any such reconfiguring.’
‘Then shut it down. Pull the plug!’ Throwing the on/off switch always worked for Rivets when his Polly played up.
‘Would that it were as simple as that, Dr Vetsch. The entire infrastructure of the British Empire – and much of the rest of the world – is managed by ABBA, so to shut it down would be to shut the world down. The impact would be catastrophic.’
‘But you must have back-up systems.’
‘We have, but whilst these computers are perfectly satisfactory when serving as ParaDigm’s water carriers, none has the computational capacity of ABBA, and some systems – notably PanOptika, PINC and the Demi-Monde – only operate courtesy of ABBA.’
‘Then I don’t see—’
Septimus Bole held up a hand to silence Rivets. ‘In order to help our discussions, Dr Vetsch, perhaps you would be so kind as to reiterate the basis for ABBA’s quite profound processing power.’
Another strange request – the two Boles knew better than anybody how ABBA functioned – but with a mental shrug of his shoulders Rivets did as he was asked. ‘The principle underpinning ABBA is cyber-superpositioning – quantum bridging – which allows ABBA to simultaneously perform its processing in the infinite number of worlds making up the multiverse. In essence, quantum bridging allows ABBA to replicate itself exponentially.’
‘And what makes this phenomenon possible?’
‘The Etirovac-powered cyber-tubules powering ABBA.’
‘Which you are an expert on.’
‘Correct.’
‘And what is Etirovac?’
This was a bloody weird line of questioning. ‘Etirovac is the antipode of Cavorite. It’s the most singular element in the whole universe.’
‘And why is it so singular?’
‘Because, unlike Cavorite which when activated by a flow of electricity repels gravity, activated Etirovac absorbs it, to such an extent that it creates minute distortions in the space–time continuum. It is this property that Dr Bole,’ and here he nodded towards Thaddeus Bole, ‘harnessed in ABBA’s cyber-tubules and which allows ABBA to commune with its doppelgängers in the multiverse.’
‘Very good, Dr Vetsch. But have you ever wondered if there might be other uses for Etirovac?’
Rivets shuffled a little uneasily in his seat. There had been a lot of ideas knocked around during some of the more vodka-fuelled brainstorming sessions he had been involved in, but most were too fantastical to survive a public airing: he had his reputation as a failed scientist to think about. And with this – and Bujumbura – in mind he tried to be as coy with his answer as he dared. ‘Well, theoretically it could be used to create wormholes, and there is speculation that these might facilitate time travel but this,’ he added hurriedly, ‘is of course firmly in the realm of science fiction. The consideration is academic anyway: both Cavorite and Etirovac have proven impossible to manufacture in anything other than microscopic quantities, quantities too small to allow serious study of what the two elements – if they were available in industrial quantities – might be capable of.’
Septimus Bole delved into his briefcase and extracted a metal cube, steel-grey in colour, each side measuring three inches or so, which he placed on the table. He unlocked the cube and withdrew the small steel sphere – about an inch in diameter – resting in its velvet-padded interior. The sphere shimmered green as Septimus Bole took it in his hands. It looked as though it was surrounded by heat haze.
‘That ball’s covered by Cavorite,’ squawked an awestruck Rivets. He couldn’t believe it: Cavorite was the second-most exotic element in the universe, so exotic that he had never imagined it would be possible to create more than a few atoms of the strange substance at any one time. To make enough to cover the sphere was – or so he had imagined until that moment – a practical impossibility.
‘Correct,’ chortled Thaddeus Bole. ‘Once a Message Sphere has been received, it is coated with Cavorite in order that it may be read.’
‘You can manufacture Cavorite!’ Rivets persisted. He felt a little dizzy. The research possibilities opened up by the prospect of having possession of workable quantities of the element were mouth-watering.
Thaddeus Bole answered. ‘Yes. The process was developed towards the end of the nineteenth century. ParaDigm has an industrial facility dedicated to the production of Cavorite and its antipode, Etirovac.’
‘I’ve never heard of that.’
‘Which I find wonderfully reassuring, Dr Vetsch. That facility is, perhaps, one of ParaDigm’s most closely guarded secrets, and of course none of the experimental work underpinning the manufacturing process has ever been published.’
While his father was speaking, Septimus Bole had been busying himself placing the sphere onto a coupling sitting atop a device that looked not dissimilar to the Enigma machines the Germans had employed during the Second World War.
‘The machine is a Temporal Reader,’ explained Thaddeus Bole. ‘Using the code etched onto the Message Sphere we are able to align the sphere with the Reader. Once this is done, we activate the Cavorite …’
Septimus Bole flicked a switch to the side of the Reader and immediately the green haze surrounding the Message Sphere deepened and the metal ball lifted away from its coupling.
An impressive sight. Whilst Rivets was familiar with Cavorite’s ability to repel gravity, he had only seen it done at atomic levels. But this was an entirely different order of magnitude, and for a scientist like him a rather humbling experience. His thoughts were interrupted by a whirring sound as the levitating sphere pivoted on its axis and then began to spin.
‘It will take a moment for the sphere to reach Read Velocity,’ advised Septimus Bole. ‘This is perhaps the time to mention that the cost associated with manufacturing such a quantity of Cavorite and with transmitting a Message Sphere is so enormous that the content usually relates to major events and the actions necessary to manipulate those events. Thus, while the message contained on this particular sphere is almost parochial in content, it must have been hugely important to those sending it.’
Rivets didn’t have a clue what he was talking about.
A thin voice came from the Reader.
‘Message dated 31 December 2039 STOP Recruit Robert Iain Vetsch, Ph.D. student Oxford University STOP Highest priority STOP Verification Code follows.’
Rivets blinked and for a moment his mind froze as he wrestled with the implications of what he’d just heard. Finally he blurted out a wholly inadequate ‘It’s a message from the future!’
‘Correct,’ confirmed Septimus Bole. ‘My father received this particular message on 31 December 2014. It seems that ParaDigm of 2039 has identified you as one of the movers and shakers of world history … the people we refer to as Singularities. Unhappily, since your recruitment your performance has been such that the confidence evinced in you by our postDecessors has not been vindicated. So we were unprepared when my father received a second Message Sphere yesterday instructing him to involve you in what we have entitled the ABBA Containment Project.’
Rivets was so dumbfounded that he had to do a reality check. ‘How many messages have you received from the future?’
‘Not many, Dr Vetsch – as I say, the cost is enormous – but when it is thought important enough, then, yes,
a message can be sent. There have only been sixty-one messages sent since ParaDigm mastered the ability to traverse time in 1907 and two of them have referred to you. It seems that you have the potential to be very important to ParaDigm … very important indeed. And that is why we are offering you the opportunity to lead the Containment Project: those running ParaDigm in the future obviously see something in you we don’t.’
‘But how are you doing this?’
‘All will be explained during the familiarisation programme we have arranged for you, Dr Vetsch, a programme which will involve a visit to our TiME – our Temporal Modulating Engine – in Nevada. As for the rest of your questions, once you have been PINC-equipped, everything will become crystal-clear.’
Wow, they’re going to PINC me!
‘I appreciate that it is only a few weeks before everyone in the Empire will be the proud possessor of a noöPINC, but the old-style PINC will serve your purposes in the interim.’
Rivets nodded his understanding and then was struck by a thought. ‘But if this crisis with ABBA is so serious why haven’t you received prior warning from your counterparts in the future? Why didn’t they alert you to the problem?’
Thaddeus Bole answered. ‘That, Dr Vetsch, is the key question. We would have expected some sort of warning and the fact that we haven’t received any suggests that our descendants are constrained … possibly by ABBA. We can only assume that the message imploring us to hire you was their attempt to provide us, indirectly, with a solution to this pressing problem.’
‘Then surely the simplest thing is for you to send a message back to the time when ABBA was first being programmed, advising ParaDigm circa the year 2000 to be less, er, ambiguous in how it limits ABBA’s scope for independent action.’
‘A logical suggestion, Dr Vetsch, but unfortunately it is not one we can readily follow. Temporal Modulations, as we refer to them, cannot, for reasons we don’t yet understand, be enacted within a timescale of less than twenty-five years. This is the so-called Law of Temporal Boundaries, which, we have learned to our cost, cannot be violated. It appears that the Masters of Time punish impatience … and punish it very severely. Temporal Modulation, as you will discover, Dr Vetsch, is a very delicate art: the retro-programming of ABBA must be done with finesse and it is apparent from the advice we have received from the future that only you, Dr Vetsch, are capable of such subtlety.’
‘To write the programming that’ll make ABBA docile, I’m going to need a much higher access to ABBA.’
‘Your ABBA Classification will be raised from your current Grade Two to Grade Ten.’
Rivets nearly passed out. He was being given authority to use almost all of ABBA’s vast capabilities. ‘Do I receive a salary commensurate with a Grade Ten classification?’
‘You do.’
The thoughts of his new-found wealth prompted Rivets to become even more demanding. ‘I want Dr Dong E assigned as my assistant. And she’ll need to be PINC-equipped too.’
‘Agreed. With the noöPINC Project now coming to an end, Dr Dong E is surplus to ParaDigm’s immediate requirements.’
Having run out of things to demand, Rivets sat becalmed. Thaddeus Bole used the silence as an opportunity to terminate the interview. ‘Work quickly, Dr Vetsch,’ he said with a grim finality. ‘You have until the end of April to accomplish your task. With regard to bringing ABBA to heel the devil is driving very hard indeed.’
Rivets didn’t need reminding: the devil was staring at him from the holopad in the corner of the room.
*
Septimus Bole watched as Robert Vetsch left his office, waited until the door was firmly closed behind him and then drained a vial of blood. He hated showing weakness in front of his father, but the need to prevent the onset of a Shadow Moment took precedence over such transient humiliation. And the probability of him being beset by a Shadow Moment was very high: he knew from painful experience – very painful experience – that these dives into suicidal melancholia were associated with extreme stress and he doubted whether he had ever been subjected to such great and unrelenting stress as he was now. That he was responsible for the Final Solution – for the resurrection of the Grigori – was pressure enough but having to deal, simultaneously, with ABBA’s delinquency made this pressure almost intolerable.
Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the hologram of his father and tried to display an equanimity he most certainly did not feel. As always, he was muggy and dyspeptic after a visit to the Demi-Monde and ideally would have tried to avoid making any important decisions for at least forty-eight hours after his return. Unfortunately, the situation had been so critical that he hadn’t been able to allow himself the luxury of such a lengthy recuperation. Not that his father would be in any way appreciative of his self-sacrifice; nothing he ever did was good enough for his father.
‘You will monitor Vetsch,’ his father said.
‘Of course, Father. I am more than a little disturbed by the prospect of involving someone as ill-disciplined as Vetsch in the ABBA problem. His psychological profile indicates that he is liable to be driven by his conscience rather than his logic. He is not to be trusted.’
‘Our postDecessors think otherwise, Septimus. They are very determined that we employ him to resolve the situation with ABBA and to prevent it taking any further action that might be detrimental to the success of the Final Solution. They have, after all, sent two Message Spheres on the subject, which I think underlines the importance they attach to our employment of Vetsch’s talents. But having said that, it would be remiss of us not to watch the boy: he is somewhat wayward and prone to indiscretions.’
‘And, of course, to use him to retro-program ABBA necessitates making him party to some of ParaDigm’s most sensitive secrets.’
‘Only some of them, I trust.’
‘Of course, Father. I have ensured that data relating to Temporal Modulations accessible through PINC has been suppressed. It is impossible for Vetsch to recreate previous TimeStreams: the firewalls I have placed around these data are invulnerable.’
‘Good. Then let us turn our attention to Ella Thomas and Norma Williams.’
‘The news here isn’t good, Father,’ Septimus Bole admitted. ‘ABBA has brought them both back to the Real World and is protecting them from our surveillance. We are unable to track them using the PanOptika system.’
‘But we must have information other than that available via PanOptika.’
‘We have interviewed Nurse Green at the INTRADOC facility, who confirms that Ella Thomas returned to the Real World on the twenty-second of March, though thanks to ABBA, none of the eyeSpies monitoring the biPsych Storage Unit has any record of this. However, Ella Thomas’ return is corroborated by the PollyLog of Captain Sanderson which states that the girl left INTRADOC eight hours later, though again, when the footage of the eyeSpies surveilling the facility’s entrance was examined there was no sign of the girl. ABBA has expunged her from the digital record.’
‘Regrettable. Do we know what she was up to in the eight hours she was loose in INTRADOC?’
‘No, but in the light of what happened next it is safe to assume that she used her time there to bring Norma Williams out of the Demi-Monde. Metztil advises Norma Williams returned from the Demi-Monde thirty-six hours ago, with Ella Thomas arriving at the Institute ten hours later. With the help of two as yet unidentified allies she assisted Norma Williams to escape. Again none of this was recorded by eyeSpy. It’s very frustrating.’
‘And what are you doing regarding the locating of Thomas and Williams?’
‘I have made the assumption that Norma Williams will attempt to disrupt the Gathering: she is, after all, the leader of the Fun/Funs. I have placed a cordon of Intelligence Bureau agents around Las Vegas.’
‘A sensible strategy. And Ella Thomas?’
‘We have seeded a story to the American news media that she is a terrorist intent on assassinating Norma Williams, which will persuade the FBI to put her on their Most
Wanted list. If the FBI fails, psychological profiling suggests she will be drawn back towards her home town of New York. I am having her apartment watched around the clock.’
‘Again a sensible surmise. Who in the Intelligence Bureau has been given responsibility for this task?’
‘Colonel Andrei Zolotov.’
‘An excellent choice, Septimus, but order Zolotov not to kill Thomas but to bring her here to Yamantau. I wish to supervise the destruction of Lilith personally.’
‘Is that wise, Father? Thomas is a Lilithi and has proven herself—’
‘I want to see Lilith die, Septimus.’
2:07
London
The Real World: 25 March 2019
Despite all our efforts and all our investment it has proven impossible to manufacture Cavorite in sufficient quantities to replicate the effect of the Cavorite-rich meteor which landed in Yorkshire, England in 1795 (I would remind the Grand Council that it was the Cavoritic radiation emitted by the meteor which was responsible for the regeneration of the MAOA-Grigori gene in my forebears). Whilst insights provided by Henry Cavor have allowed us to produce enough quantities of Cavorite (and its antipode, Etirovac) to support the TiME strategy and to construct ABBA, a much greater quantity is necessary if we are to succeed with the Final Solution. Conventional methods of production having failed, I would propose that the necessary amounts of Cavorite be created virtually in a digitally constructed world where we will also replicate the coterie of six million Fragiles earmarked for transmogrification. This strategy I have named The Demi-Monde Project.
Hologrammic address given to the Grand Council of the Most Secret Order of Grigori by Dr Thaddeus Bole, 29 September 2009
Only when he heard the door of his monopad sigh shut behind him did Rivets allow his self-control to falter. He slumped down into the couch, not even having the energy to prevent a purring Jasper from sidling up onto his lap. He was glad somebody was happy, because he wasn’t.
He was a very unhappy man, which was odd because being PINCed had been an almost transcendental experience. In an instant all of the world’s knowledge had been available to him. He had felt … reborn. In that moment of revelation he had become one with the Kosmos.
