She took a deep breath. “Just a minute, Nathan. I think Agent Blanchard has to leave. I’ll talk to you in a moment. I’ll call you back from the car, okay?” She hung up and gave the phone to the Agent.
“I’m sorry, Miss Metcalfe. I must go, I’m sure you understand,” the Agent said, turning to leave.
“Wait.” Despite the best of her intentions to stay well away from the Professor’s project, she heard the desperation in Nathan’s voice. And the awful prediction: No more painting. Sarina looked at her mother, who was wringing her hands and quite clearly on the verge of tears. “I have to, Mum. They need me.” If what Nathan had said was true, then the entire art world—the whole world—needed her right now, she thought grimly.
She looked at Agent Blanchard. “I’m coming with you. But you’ll have to agree to some terms and conditions.”
The Agent spread his hands wide.
Sarina nodded. “We can talk in the car—” She stopped in her tracks. How was Agent Blanchard getting to the lab within the hour? It had taken them two days by train. “Surely it will take too long by car?”
Agent Blanchard smiled. “I have a helicopter coming for us.”
They drove the short distance to the field nearby and she watched the dwindling figure of her mother in the doorway, until she couldn’t see her any more. She was still wringing her hands.
Sarina turned to Agent Blanchard. “May I use your phone again? I need to get some things straightened out with Nathan.”
Blanchard said nothing, but reached into his jacket and handed Sarina the phone. “Just hit redial.”
The voice on the other end had calmed down some. “Hello? Who is this?”
“Nathan. It’s me, Sarina.”
“Oh. Has Agent Blanchard left?—But wait. You don’t have a phone. Where are you?”
“I’m with him. I’m coming too. But you have some explaining to do. How could you let little Lena—who is a missing person—walk past under your very nose AND with some dangerous machine. Please start at the beginning. I have time. An hour to be precise. And don’t even talk to me about the helicopter.”
“Helicopter? What helicopter? Hmm. Okay, I’ll start with the machine. It’s called a collider actually. Turns out the Prof made a quite astounding discovery—well it was him and Malden if you remember. You know, when we were in the café? He said they’d discovered the rem-particle and it had something to do with dream-power; and can affect our creativity and imagination. Personally I think it’s much bigger than that. Anyway, he and Malden built this rem-collider machine—but don’t get the idea it’s huge like the Hadron-collider, ‘cause it’s not, it’s no bigger than a football, but not round, it’s a cube and Lena must have put it in the backpack, and if the collider gets unstable then it might cause some rem-events or something, and because the Prof says rem is diminishing faster than predicted in our corner of the universe, that means we’re all getting stupider—”
“More stupid, Nathan,” Sarina corrected, “now before I start to think it’s already affected you, will you please slow down. Why wasn’t this machine destroyed, if it’s so dangerous?”
Nathan was silent.
“Nathan?”
“Er, I don’t understand the question. Sarina, this is a once-in-a-lifetime breakthrough—”
“And I only have one lifetime and now you want to blow it up with your stupid experiments!” Sarina felt herself getting hot. “Let me ask you again. Why is the Professor still working with this machine, if it’s still so dangerous?”
“It’s in the interests of advancing science. You wouldn’t be talking to me on this phone if it wasn’t for breakthroughs in science.”
“And what exactly will this machine help us with? Inventing more machines?” She bit her tongue and tried to pull back the sarcasm, but it was too late.
Nathan ignored the barb, but she could imagine him rolling his eyes at the other end of the phone. “For a start, if we are losing rem-particles in our part of the universe, then we will also lose our creativity; our dreams and our ability to be inventors. The human race will plateau. The machine might be able to replace the particles, sort of a correction-device I s’pose. But the exciting thing is using the collider to accelerate rem—make a high-energy rem-particle that superconducts creativity. We could turn ourselves into superhumans with an advanced intelligence, Sarina!”
Privately, Sarina wondered whether the human race had plateaued a long time ago. Money and technology had pushed the value of purely creative pursuits to the wayside. The so-called advance of the human race. She disagreed, but she’d quickly discovered she was in a minority. Give her a good painting over a video game anytime. But these scientists! What right did they have to meddle with HER world?
Nathan was still talking. “Sarina? Don’t you think that’s worth the risk?”
Her blood boiled. “No, I do not! Now we’re in a pickle and I’ve got better things to do—”
“You don’t understand!” Nathan shouted down the phone.
“Yes I do! It’s scientists meddling with nature, that’s what it is. Isn’t there enough wrong with the world that you still need to poke your fingers in and make it worse? What if you try to make your so-called advanced intelligence superhumans, but it goes wrong, and we end up with the opposite, and destroy one of our most distinctive and valuable skills?”
The car turned into the field and they drove over bumpy turf to where a helicopter waited, its rotors spinning. Nathan carried on, oblivious to the noise, but she could hardly hear him. “... leaking ... sucking ... to find it. Be alert ... po ... c ...”
“I CAN’T HEAR YOU. I HAVE TO GO IN THE HELICOPTER NOW.”
She hung up and passed the phone back to Agent Blanchard, who had a slight smile. He pulled to a halt and cupped his hands around his mouth to make himself heard over the noise of the rotors. “I see you are still good friends.” His expression darkened. “You and he are our best chance right now. I must urge you to work together, for all our sakes. I believe in the value of Professor Harrison’s work, but as I said before, I wouldn’t have come all this way if I didn’t also believe in your ability to help us with this madness.”
The noise was too great for conversation to continue, so she nodded and followed the man through the buffeting wind from the rotors, and to the helicopter door, where the Agent stopped to help her climb in.
It was only mildly quieter inside, but Sarina’s head still echoed with the Agent’s last word. Madness. In the heat of the events, she’d completely forgotten about her blackouts and ... mental problems.
Well that was that wasn’t it? She certainly couldn’t tell them she was going mad now. They were relying on her to help. They needed her help. Maybe the whole world needed her help.
And if her brain was going the same way her aunts’ had, then maybe it would be the last thing she ever did.
Her stomach dropped and she clutched the sides of the seat in panic ... then realised it was the helicopter taking off.
She looked out into the night sky.
Madness.
Her world was descending into madness.
~~~
Lena set the backpack down on the floor with a thud. “That was heavy!” She looked at Valkrog then over at the Professor, who was still unconscious. “Daddy isn’t awake yet.” She yawned. “And I think I have to go to bed now. Can we play when I wake up?”
Valkrog eyed the backpack. “You may sleep in a short while. First, I must know how to use this machine. Please undo the bag”—he looked at his injured talon—“I am not as able as I would like to be.”
Lena yawned again and turned the backpack on its side. She dragged the bag off and revealed the gleaming machine. The orange LED was steadily blinking. She looked at Valkrog. “Silly Mr Big Bird. I don’t know how it works. Only Daddy and Nathan know that. All I know is you have to push that button”—she pointed to the grey button next to the blinking light—“then add in the numbers here”—she moved her finger to poi
nt at the keypad—“but I’m sure Daddy will tell you not to touch when he wakes up. I’m not allowed and I expect you aren’t either.”
She yawned and walked over to her pile of sacking, and lay down. “I have to go to bed now, Mr Big Bird. Goodnight.” The girl closed her eyes and was asleep in minutes.
Valkrog moved to the machine, and with difficulty, lifted it onto a nearby packing crate. He stood back and walked around the device. How would he use the machine to contact his master? Could it return him to his world? He let out a slow hiss. Not before he had settled his debt with the Orange Witch.
The light blinked at him, oblivious to his mounting frustration. He walked around and around the collider, then stopped.
He looked at the girl, asleep, and then at the man, slumped unconscious against the wall. He would wake the man and force him to punch the codes that would allow him to contact the Great One. After which he would take care of the Orange Witch. For good. His last task would be to force the man to show him how to get back to his own world. Then he would dispose of both the man and the girl.
Valkrog’s hand throbbed again and he looked at the machine. Should he start by investigating this device, or wait to wake the man? He considered the distinct possibility the man would try to trick him, and came to a decision. It would be better to understand more about this ... odd machine, before he woke him.
He reached forward, extended a talon and pressed the grey button.
~~~
Makthryg stumbled through the brush-spiked scrub. He had long ago lost count of the steps he had taken since first light, and now the light was fading and he was still no closer to knowing how far he must travel to his destination.
If his loyal creature had been here, he could command it to soar into the sky and locate the closest shelter—or better yet, locate the inhabitants of this forsaken scrubland who he would force into his service—but Valkrog’s fate was unknown to him.
Of more urgency was his need for food and sustenance. He had managed to extract a small amount of fluid from crushed grasses along the way, and regrettably, had succumbed to ingesting almost all of the remaining harrowbrush in order to sustain his march, but since then, he had gone unnourished.
He stopped at the top of the next dune, surveyed the never-ending gorse all around and resolved to find the tallest bushes to rest against. He looked down at his hand. The blood had abated, but he had not yet dared remove the strip of cloth for fear of setting off the heavy bleeding again, yet he knew he was only putting off the inevitable. Sooner or later, he would need to wash and redress his wound.
But that would mean finding water.
He looked down the slope and located a suitable clump of gorse for the night’s shelter. He was on his way down the slope when the air shifted a minuscule amount. Moving, but without movement; an almost imperceptible focus and re-focus. He stopped again and heightened his senses.
He looked around, saw nothing, heard nothing. He rubbed his shoulder absently, exactly where he had felt Valkrog’s wound when the Orange Witch had burned him. His pulse quickened with the realisation the ache from the phantom wound could only mean one thing: Valkrog was alive.
He continued down the slight hill, still rubbing his shoulder. He would rest the night against the gorse bushes and re-evaluate his plans. If the bird-creature was still alive, then his position was not as poor as he had once concluded.
But he would have to find him first.
~~~
Sarina and Agent Blanchard walked down the corridor to the café. The lab was quiet and foreboding, especially after an hour spent in the constant clatter of the helicopter, which had only been dulled by the headset Agent Blanchard had given her.
Most areas in the building were dark, but in the café, the stark lights emphasised the emptiness, contrasted by a lone figure slumped in a lounge chair in the corner.
Nathan looked up at them, glum-faced, as they walked across. “Well this is a right mess we’re in, isn’t it?”
“Don’t start me off, Nathan. You make it sound like it’s my fault too. As far as I am aware, I didn’t invent a silly machine, nor did I meddle with nature. And as for not destroying—or at least disabling—a dangerous machine, then letting it be stolen by a six-year-old girl ...” She glowered at Nathan, who looked downcast.
He glanced back up at her. “Why did you come then?”
She’d had time in the helicopter to think, and realised being angry with Nathan wouldn’t help them solve their problem. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t make him feel very uncomfortable for a while. She reached into her bag and pulled out Lena’s drawings. “Because of this.” She passed across the drawing of Lena and the huge black bird-like creature holding hands.
Nathan looked at the picture and let out a low whistle. “Wow. Where did she get that picture from? I thought we vaporised that ugly chicken? Kind of complicates things, doesn’t it?”
Sarina nodded. “You can say that again.” She turned to Agent Blanchard. “But whatever this picture means isn’t our highest priority though, is it? We need a plan, right? We have to find Lena and the Professor quickly?”
Blanchard inclined his head. “Yes, Miss Metcalfe. My suggestion is you two spend some time now to discuss our options. Master Goldberg should tell you all he knows of the collider and the project he and Professor Harrison were working on. Your highest priority will be detection and location. We will take care of the rest.” He looked at his watch. “It’s getting late, so I suggest you spend another thirty minutes or so exploring your ideas for finding them. I will resume my search of Professor Harrison’s private files and office. When I return, I recommend we all get whatever sleep we can. We can use the facilities here, then we rise early and attempt to locate them, assuming my men haven’t found them in the meantime. We will all do better with a clear head.” He nodded briefly at them both, and headed off to the Professor’s office.
Sarina looked at Nathan and raised her eyebrows. “So talk.”
Nathan nodded. “Okay, so let’s put our differences to one side for the moment. I know you don’t agree that scientists should attempt these kind of experiments, but that argument will have to wait until we have time. As I said, the Prof and Malden were using the collider to understand this rem-particle, when they discovered that by using high-energy collisions, they might be able to manufacture them. And save humanity from being condemned to getting more and more stupid.”
“But then there was an accident.”
Nathan nodded. “Yes. So the Prof was reluctant to continue and he mothballed the machine—”
“Tell me again why it wasn’t destroyed?”
“I think he still believed it was important to prevent the accident happening again. He must have thought it was valuable to maintain the machine, to allow for more investigation, and so he took precautions ...” His face screwed up.
“What? What are you thinking?”
Nathan looked at Sarina, his mouth twisted. “Several times I had the impression the Prof wasn’t telling me the full story.” He shook his head, trying to clear it. “All I can tell you is that I think there is more to the project he hasn’t yet shared—or wasn’t willing to share. But what I do know is pretty scary.”
“More scary than the picture I just showed you?”
Nathan nodded.
“Oh.”
“Exactly. You see, the machine is unstable. The Prof and I were working on an investigation of the collider’s states before shutting it down completely. He felt that it was simply too risky to continue. But to work on it, we had to elevate the machine’s level of excitement, close to where it had been when Malden had the accident.” He fixed his gaze on her. “It’s still in that state right now.”
Sarina stared at him. “Again, please, but this time in plain English.”
Nathan sighed. “Here’s what I know. I think the machine can leak rem-particles, which is why we have to wear these”—he pointed to a shiny-looking metal helmet-device next to him
—“when we are working on it, and why it’s kept in a Faraday Ca—ah, a radiation-protected room. When the rem-particles leak, we can measure occasional spikes, which might affect highly creative people such as you.” He gave her an apologetic smile. “But honestly, in its heightened state of instability?” He shrugged. “I don't know this for certain, but I think if it was switched on, it could start a chain reaction and actually accelerate the rem loss from our world.”
Sarina struggled to understand. “If the rem-particle thing is what makes our creativity, then why is a spike in rem a problem? I don’t understand. But then again, I’m no scientist. And rem loss? What on earth does that mean? Surely Lena doesn’t know how to switch this machine on. It’s not even plugged in!”
“It has a graphene-capacitive battery”—he saw the confusion on Sarina’s face immediately—“it means it still stays powered up almost indefinitely, even when disconnected from a power source. Believe it or not, it’s a safety function. It means we can still interface with it in a power cut for example. One good thing about that is that when it is battery-powered, its power is much lessened.” He grimaced. “We hope. As for why rem spikes cause a problem, that’s something I don’t know. As you say, you wouldn’t think that would happen. But I have a feeling the Prof hasn’t been completely straight with me about that. Anyway, that’s not our main concern right now. The thing is, if it starts to drain the rem from our surroundings, that’s a ... problem. A big problem.”
Nathan looked Sarina in the eyes and continued. “You see, if even more rem is sucked from our universe, it takes with it our creative intelligence. If that happens, we’re going to get very dumb, very quickly.”
Sarina opened her mouth to speak, but Nathan stopped her. “I know. Not good. And Lena does know how to switch it on, not that she would. The Prof already gave her the strictest instructions not to touch. ”
“Okay. So if we don’t find the machine, Lena and the Prof quickly, then we are in danger from an unstable machine that could go very bad on us. And by us, you mean ALL of us. So bad it will affect everyone’s creativity. That’s why you told me ‘no more painting’, isn’t it?”
The Dreamer Chronicles Trilogy Boxed Set Vol I - III: A Sci-Fi Parallel Universe Adventure (The Dreamer Chronicles - Science Fiction For Kids And Adults) Page 38
