“Wait,” said Dom. “Is this something to do with why I kept popping into your head?”
Jenna nodded. “Quantum entanglement, Dom. There was something about our relationship, from the moment I first saw you. Any time I tried to use numbers, there was a brief moment of entanglement, a melding of your numerate ecology and my unheeding perception of the quantum world that dragged us together, and then after I was given the artefact and began to use it, we melded for longer periods, from further distances apart.”
Dom shook his head, not understanding this at all. “Then how come I wasn’t in your head at the end there?”
She smiled. “Because I’m in control now.”
Jenna looked back to the dead dolphins on the beach, and then removed on old, creased piece of paper from her back pocket and placed it on the sand; part of the artefact that had been in the box, Dom realized. As she smoothed it out, new numbers slowly rippled outwards, disrupting the grains of sand around it, and as Dom watched, the sky began to shift again, sideways and backwards, and a seemingly infinite amount of sand seemed to multiply itself, every grain prepared to introduce him to the new universe.
Acknowledgements
A lot of time and research went into writing this novel, and as with anything that requires so much digging around in history, I am greatly indebted to a large number of people for their aid and counsel, and to an equally-large number of people who stepped up with wonderful ideas and criticisms.
First and foremost, I must thank my wife, JoAnn Murphy: yes, when we got married the thought did occur to me that it might be useful for an author to be married to an academic librarian, and she was indeed a help when navigating my way through old museums and libraries in Scotland and England, but in the end it was just a great thing to have her for company in the U.K. while tracing the path of my heroes and villains.
This book would not exist without my old friend Wayne Malkin, who first showed me a picture of Napier’s Bones and who uttered the magic words that would launch the central conceit behind this book. Thanks also go to Frank Wu, who sent me the cool artwork for a concept that ended up being edited out of the novel, Kevin Hutchings, Associate Professor of English at the University of Northern British Columbia, the staff at the College Heights Starbucks in Prince George, where much of the book was written, and Judy Green in the Special Collections Library at the University of Alberta.
For offering wise words of criticism and support, George Murphy (my father), Douglas Smith, David Hartwell, Nalo Hopkinson, Donald Maass, Holly Phillips, Jena Snyder, the late, great Phyllis Gotlieb, and of course my wonderful and insightful editor Sandra Kasturi and publisher Brett Alexander Savory.
Jay Caselberg in London and Charles Stross in Edinburgh were kind to me when I was in their respective cities (note to Jay: never forget the homicidal midget). Stephen Dodson, proprietor of Languagehat (www.languagehat.com), one of the smartest and most interesting blogs I read, was invaluable and very patient in helping me with translations. As with any other expert advice I was given, if mistakes are found they’re mine and mine alone.
At Napier University in Edinburgh, Eric and Chris were a huge help, taking me on a tour and printing off all sorts of information from the university records. I wish I had remembered to get their last names. In the university’s library, Liz Butchart took wonderful care of me and came up with excellent reference material.
I was apparently too busy to ask for their names, but I also received tremendous help from people at the National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh, at Lambeth Palace Library in London, and the individual (name lost on a long-dead computer) whose membership in a nature society led me to the wonder of the Ballachuan Hazelwood. If nothing else came out of this project, the fact that I got to lose myself—literally—on Seil Island for a few hours was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Finally, I am indebted to the Canada Council for the Arts for their generous support in helping me complete this project.
about the author
Derryl Murphy’s stories have appeared in a variety of magazines and anthologies over the years. He is also the author of the ecological science fiction collection Wasps at the Speed of Sound and, with co-author William Shunn, of the ghost story Cast a Cold Eye. He has been nominated three times for Canada’s Aurora Award, and anticipates that someday he’ll be nominated and lose again. He lives on the Canadian prairies with his wife, two sons, and dog, and vaguely remembers the day when he thought this whole writing thing would be glamourous.
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