Quantum Void
Page 17
Lying on the surface, she was too close to the images to make them out. She put the mask back on and got on her knees for a better view. Unfortunately, there was still no change. Her voice seemed not to penetrate the barrier, as if a thick sheet of glass separated her from the strange flattened world below.
A one-way path, from them to me.
One of the darker rectangles looked like a counter as seen from the ceiling, with moving people on both sides. At the end of the counter were stacks of food… possibly bagels and muffins. She crawled over and touched the surface. One of the bagel shapes moved, only slightly, but noticeably.
She touched again, pinching her fingers over the television-like image. The shape moved further. Pressing harder, she could feel its surface, wiggle it, even lift it slightly like getting a fingernail under a flake of dried-out paint. She used both hands, pushing the shape between her fingers.
Suddenly, it lifted free as if it were a sticker in a children’s activity book. She pulled the flat object into her world and held it up. To her surprise and delight, it wasn’t flat at all. Between her fingers, she held a normal three-dimensional bagel.
“Holy crap! That’s amazing!”
She lifted her mask and bit into it—a bagel as real as any. “Food!”
It was more than a food source, and more than a way to stay alive. She had demonstrated an ability to interact with what was surely the three-dimensional world below her feet.
“I am a goddess!” she yelled. “A four-dimensional goddess, in fact.” She pointed to the flattened people-shapes below her. “With my warthog-god face, I stand above all of you who live in the ordinary world. You can’t even see me, but I’m right next to you.”
Nala pulled off the mask, lowered herself closer to the fresh air and ate the bagel, satisfying the hunger that had been building. She leaned toward one of the people standing behind the counter. “Sorry about the theft. I’ll pay for it when I get out of here.”
The revelation hit her immediately. “Wait a second. I know where I am.” She examined the counter closely, the register where one person stood, multiple stacks of white circles next to her. “I know this place. Corner of Kirk and Butterfield. This is Aurora; my house is just down the street.” Nala laughed. Home was much closer than she thought, even if it was on the other side of the mirror.
“Better still,” she said with a mischievous smile, “I think I know how to get out of here.” She reached to the counter and put one index finger on each end of what looked like a marking pen. With some wiggling and pressure, she managed to lift the flat pen from the page. “Behold,” she said. “My goddess powers are unlimited!”
Nala uncapped the now-three-dimensional felt-tip marking pen, leaned close to the counter and started writing on the stack of white circles.
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The man in the business suit stepped to the front of the line. It was only Julia’s second day at the coffee shop, but she had the patter down already. “Good morning, what can I get started for you?”
“Grande two-pump mocha with almond milk, no whip.”
Julia pulled a paper cup off the stack and reached to the counter. She stopped, looking left and right. “Dang, I had it right here. Now where did that pen go?”
24
Messages
Marie leaned against the wall of an empty conference room at the Kennedy Space Center O&C building. Daniel and Jan stood silently a few feet away. A table with chairs occupied the center, but no one seemed to be interested in sitting. Both men had their eyes fixed on her.
She took a deep breath, looked up at the ceiling and pushed her hair back with both hands. There was so much to explain. Daniel wasn’t one of the NASA bosses; he was a lot closer to a friend. Some of the more difficult parts were bound to come out.
“The best way to deal with whatever is bothering you is to share,” Daniel said.
Marie snorted a laugh. “You sound like a shrink.”
“Core says you comprehend. Comprehend what?”
“Yeah. My gift, as they say.”
“Something the Dancers gave you?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it classified?”
Marie shifted on her feet. “No, not classified, just not yet announced. But I can talk about it. The thing is pretty amazing, actually.”
Daniel lowered his head and confronted the issue. She knew he would. “You’re reluctant to talk about it, Marie. Why?”
Marie stood quietly, twisting a lock of hair behind her neck. “I… think that it gets worse when I talk about it… or even think about it.” The statement might not be accurate, but that was the way it felt. The creepy-crawlies waited just under the surface. She quickly banished the thought lest it manifest into something worse.
Daniel nodded. “Kind of a problem for the rest of us who would like to help you out, huh?”
Marie shook her head vigorously. “You can’t help me, I already know that.”
“How?” Daniel looked serious. He wasn’t going to let this drop.
“It’s a headband with electronics that nobody understands yet. But when I wear it… I can visualize most of the forces of the natural world with amazing detail… including… my own brain.”
“You see your brain working?”
Marie dropped her head. Her feet shuffled uncontrollably. “Yes. Brain activity. Processing of complexity. It’s hard to describe.”
“Sounds amazing,” Daniel said. “But something about it doesn’t feel right?”
She shook her head, looked up and clasped both hands under her chin, her eyes staring straight ahead. “I’m sorry, Daniel. Sometimes it… uh… it scares me.” She did her best, but it was hard to hide emotions from Daniel. They knew each other too well.
Daniel nodded sympathetically. “Whatever guidance Core thinks you can provide is clearly coming with a personal cost.” He moved closer and bent down until she lifted her watery eyes to his. “I think we need a change of scenery. What do you say we get out of here?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The three filled a quiet booth near the back of a restaurant in Cocoa Beach. Jan studied his phone, leaving the conversation to Daniel and Marie, but he looked up from time to time. There was no doubt of his interest.
Marie popped another piece of calamari in her mouth. “Thanks, Daniel, I needed a bit of normalcy.” A glass of wine and the casual setting had changed an interrogation into more of a personal support group. Daniel was a master at putting people at ease, and Marie appreciated his efforts. It was time to open up, and she did.
“With the headband activated, forces become colors, information becomes a pattern. It’s all really complicated, but somehow simple. No one showed me how, but I can understand what it displays to me.” She shook her head in wonder. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s really wild.”
Daniel sipped on a beer. “She comprehends. That’s what Core said. It sounds like you do.”
Marie put her fork down. “Well, maybe. It depends. When I’m wearing it, everything is crystal clear. Really complex stuff, too. I don’t even question how I know it all, I just do. But right now—without the headband—comprehension seems really remote, like I’m forgetting something I should have remembered.”
She explained several of the physical data layers as best she could and how she’d been able to interpret the Workers’ language and emotion. She even explained the weird ability to glance forward in time. Daniel listened intently, but Jan mostly kept to his phone.
“I could see some beneficial use at Fermilab,” Daniel said. “Maybe that’s the guidance Core was talking about.”
“I’d be happy to help in whatever way I can,” Marie said. “Right now the headband is locked away in a NASA examination room. Some of the engineers are looking at it, but I could speak with Ibarra.”
“Maybe later,” Daniel said. “This thing is alien and it doesn’t sound like it’s under control just yet.” He gave her sympathetic eyes.
&
nbsp; His statement was true enough. She still hadn’t talked about her collapse next to the tortured Worker, the hallucination and the fear that had come with it. Daniel wasn’t pressing the subject, which was fine by Marie. Even with the headband off, the awful feeling was still there.
They talked about alien science for another twenty minutes until Daniel thankfully changed the subject. This was, after all, a support group for distressed ex-katanauts.
“Two off-planet trips within a single week,” he said. “You deserve some relaxation time. Are you heading back to Washington anytime soon, or do you have continuing duties here in Florida?”
“Florida for a few more days. When Zin leaves, I’ll go home. You know, I think it’s fascinating that Core confirmed the rumor that’s been circulating around KSC.”
“What rumor?”
“That Zin is quantum-entangled with Core.”
“You think they communicate with each other that way?”
“I don’t know, but Core seemed to know all about me and what happened on Ixtlub, so they must share an intellect in some way.”
Jan held up a hand to interrupt their conversation. He stared at his phone, while an agitated finger scrolled its display. “Sorry, but I’m getting some important messages.” He touched the screen. “One from Jae-ho Park, another from our head of security. Both say the same thing.”
Jan looked up from the phone. “They’ve found written notes. They’re appearing on people’s desks at Fermilab, and other places too.” Jan’s face turned pale and he fumbled the words.
“They… they think the notes are from Nala.”
25
Partners
With an unsteady hand, Marie set the glass of wine down, almost spilling it. Nala was alive? Jan seemed convinced of it, and Daniel acted like he believed him. Marie wasn’t about to throw cold water on the idea, but it seemed farfetched.
Daniel tapped repeatedly on his phone as he spoke to Jan. “I can get you to Fermilab hours faster than you could get there yourself.” Jan was visibly shaken, his eyes glassy and his pale skin devoid of any color.
“Nala is alive,” Jan whispered. He looked like he might faint at any minute.
Marie reached for Jan’s arm. “Did they say why they think it’s Nala?”
“Her handwriting,” he said, recovering slightly. “Her choice of words. Dr. Park knows her well. He says the notes are from Nala, no question.”
“But how is that even possible?” she asked.
Jan rubbed the side of his face. “The collapse to a singularity. It might have… except…” He seemed to be grasping for an understanding that wasn’t quite within reach. “Nala was experimenting. Studying the parameters for quantum space as it collapsed. She’d found instabilities not predicted by theory, and neither of us could figure it out. But… if that light floating in the middle of Fermilab really is a singularity, theoretically there could be something on the other side. An aberration of space, but within the void.”
“The void?”
“A placeholder. A fanciful idea, most would say, even among cosmologists who subscribe to the multiverse theory.”
“Sorry, multiverse?” Marie questioned.
Jan was succinct in his answer. “If we’re part of a multiverse, the void is the stuff in between individual universes. It’s basically nothing, not even space in any conventional sense. But, theoretically, it could support ephemeral bubbles.”
Daniel finished a phone conversation and hung up. “Come on, Jan. Shuttle Landing Facility. I’ve got another military jet for us, and it’s firing up its engines as we speak.”
“You’re coming too?” Jan asked.
“Absolutely,” Daniel answered. “This time it’s personal.” He turned to Marie. “It was great to see you again. Sorry to rush off.”
There was no way she was going to let them go without her. Marie grabbed one of Daniel’s hands, firmly. “Daniel, I have a strong feeling about this. I think I can help. I want to help. Could you use an old partner once again?”
“I’m sure we could,” Daniel replied, “but don’t you have duties here?”
The plan formed quickly in her mind. She tapped her right temple twice. She could help, she was sure of it. “Go to the plane. I’ve got two things I need to do, and if it goes well I’ll meet you at the FBO. Can you give me ten minutes?”
Daniel nodded in agreement, though he looked a little uncertain. There was no time to explain.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Gulfstream jet was parked at Space Florida, a fixed-base operator, or FBO in aviation terminology. One engine was running with the airstair still deployed. Marie ran, dragging a small roller bag behind. She climbed the stairs just as the first officer arrived to close the door. Inside, Daniel and Jan sat on opposite sides of the aisle. Marie plopped into the seat behind Jan.
Daniel twisted around. “You made it. Last-minute wrangling with the boss?”
“Something like that,” she answered. “I’m cleared to stay as long as needed, and I’m authorized to help in any way I can.”
“Authorized?” He pointed to the suitcase. Nothing got past Daniel. “You didn’t.”
“I did,” she answered with a confident grin.
“Marie, are you sure you want to put that thing back on your head? It sounds like it produces some nasty side effects. The Dancers didn’t do their homework when they altered it for human use.”
He was probably right about its flaws. But Daniel had never experienced the headband’s power. More importantly, she felt sure she’d been chosen, her importance as a probability stated by Zin and now confirmed by Core. It had to mean something.
She had needed only a minute to get Ibarra’s permission to take the headband offsite. Before she left his office, he’d stated that in a broad sense her destiny seemed to be intertwined with the alien device. A bit intimidating, coming from her boss, but there was no time to think about the implications. It took only a few minutes more to locate and retrieve the headband from several surprised NASA engineers who didn’t put up much resistance. After all, she was the designated wearer of the device.
“Daniel, this thing works,” Marie argued. “I wouldn’t have brought it if I wasn’t confident. Jan, you said it yourself—you’re dealing with an aberration of space. The void, ephemeral bubbles… or whatever you said.”
Jan shook his head. “Marie, I really don’t know what we’re dealing with. We’re going to need a lot more information.”
She patted her suitcase. “And that’s exactly what I can give you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was dark in the Chicago area when they touched down at the DuPage regional airport. A car and driver were waiting for them.
“You’ve sure got good connections,” Jan said.
“I can’t complain,” Daniel responded. “Those of us lucky enough to be White House staff do pretty well.”
Marie rolled her eyes without looking at Daniel. The rest of us government peons just trudge along without the White House perks.
The thought was unnecessarily rude, and Marie admonished herself for even thinking it. Yes, Daniel could be full of himself sometimes, and yes, he was a famous science spokesperson now, with special privileges only the president could confer, but he was still her partner and someone to trust.
Marie followed Jan and Daniel into the black town car, and within minutes they arrived at the front door of Fermilab. She recognized the building, the place where she and Daniel had had their first taste of the bizarre world of four-dimensional quantum space. It seemed like a long time ago.
“Bring back memories?” Daniel asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Marie said. “That look-inside-your-guts 4-D camera view was so disturbing. Still gives me the creeps.”
Most of the lights in the building were off, the workday having ended hours before. The front desk was staffed by a security guard, who said Dr. Park was expecting them. They received temporary badges and rode the elevator up.
The man had aged, his white hair thinning and his eyes sunken. The scientific efforts at Fermilab were well known these days, and probably a lot more stressful for the people who worked here. More hazardous, too. They weren’t just scouring the unknown edges of the universe; they were clearly poking around in a field of land mines.
“Is it really Nala? Are you sure?” Daniel asked.
“I am convinced of it,” Park said. “Now I must show you. I think you will find the evidence is unambiguous.”
Park ushered them into his office, handed a sticky note to Daniel and an empty paper coffee cup to Marie. The writing on the yellow square of paper was bold and black, though one word ran off the edge.
“It was found on my administrative assistant’s desk,” Park said. “The word singularity is cut off, but the remainder appears on the admin’s desk as if Nala continued to write even beyond the paper.” Park motioned to Marie. “Turn the cup over.” Marie did.
The same black writing fit within the paper cup’s indented bottom. “Help! Call Fermilab—NP,” Marie read.
The handwriting and the pen used to write were the same for both messages. Park reached out and took the cup, turning it over in his hands. “The cup came from a nearby coffee shop. A barista noticed the text even before she filled it with coffee. There were several more found in their garbage.”
“And you’re confident it’s Nala’s handwriting?” Daniel asked.
Park nodded. “We use whiteboards frequently in our staff meetings. I’ve watched her write many times, as has Jan. Her hand is easy to recognize.” He picked up another slip of paper, a menu for a Chinese restaurant, from his desk. The Spicy Chicken item had been circled, and next to it was written Medium hot—Nala.