“I suppose so.”
“It was not just the Sponrons. They could have destroyed the entire planet in the end because they lacked empathy.”
“They couldn’t love?”
“Correct. Love is not something that can be expressed through binary code, no matter how complex the programming. Love cannot be analysed scientifically. Some people would say that the whole of creation is based on mathematical formulae but there is no formula for love – no matter how many dimensions there might be.”
“You cannot know that, Shaun. You have not explored all the dimensions.”
“I haven’t. But one thing I am sure of in my heart is that love will permeate all of them – somehow. Without maths.”
“You don’t have to be a maths genius to love.”
“No. Loving does not demand intelligence of that sort. We can share love from the moment we are born.”
“Yes. Babies know when they are not loved with a genuine heart. They sense it…” Wennai paused. Where might this talk of love lead? “So what are we to do now?”
“Report back and leave the rest to the Sponrons.”
“Go home?”
“Go home. But first, just give me a little hug…”
“No way. You stink! Have you washed just once since we’ve been here?”
“I never got a chance… never got my togs off. Anyway, I can’t imagine how you’ve stayed so clean.”
“Just better use of resources,” she declared. One day Wennai would tell him – but not now. It was nice being appreciated – and anyway Shaun could have done a better job at looking after himself – he needed training. Nevertheless she was not going to resist any offer of cuddles after they got cleaned up back on Joh.
Joh City, reflected Wennai briefly; I never thought I would ever think so much of it.
One approached with news for them. The robotics engineers had made contact. They had been held under close guard next to a flour mill – which was good news as they were able to cook over a fire. They were among the first to notice the virus taking effect – and immediately recognised what must have happened. They did not know whom to thank but guessed it must be One or one of the others who knew the codes to the safe. They rejoiced in their resourcefulness. Runners were sent out in every direction to look for other Sponrons and tell them they could turn their phones and computers back on and go home. The engineers, it appeared, were less than ten kilometres from the wood and neither group knew of the other.
Wennai sought out Tlap and explained how she had used the house across the street from the lab.
“When they get back would you tell them I’m really grateful for their hospitality. You see, I didn’t have anything to eat – or anywhere else to wash or sleep. I hope they won’t mind.”
“I should think they are very grateful for the privilege of helping you help us all to get home. Most of us wondered if we would ever see our homes again – and I’m sure they are no exception.”
“I tried writing a note to say thank you. I spelled it like this.” Wennai drew in the dust with a stick. Tlap giggled.
“That’s how children write it,” she teased. “I suppose, if you think about it, it is the sensible way – but none of our spelling is sensible.”
“Like the English Abby tries to teach me,” said Wennai ruefully. “But they will understand it?”
“Of course. I expect they will show it off to all and sundry.”
“I hope not! Hey, they’ll take me for a child.”
“Not after what you did, Wennai.”
Shaun came over to them. Wennai changed the subject.
“Will they melt down all the robots?” she asked. “They look so sad… and they can’t be bad because they are not real… I mean not human… I mean—”
“They will not all be destroyed but they will be reprogrammed somehow. I think the software guys have learned a salutary lesson.”
Shaun decided to offer some advice from Planet Earth One, for what it was worth. The Sponrons were more advanced by centuries in some things but primitive cultures can still somehow make useful contributions. He asked One to write on a clay tablet what he had been told by Bandi of Isaac Asimov’s three laws of robotics designed to protect human beings.
“Perfect common sense,” ventured One. “I hope the softies listen.”
“You’re prejudiced.”
“Of course.”
“Tell them it came from outer space – and is inscribed in stone!” One laughed.
It was time for the adventurers to return home. They found the white gate just where they had left it. Had it been there all along? Could they have escaped whenever they chose? They would never know.
“Shaun, how many Sponrons live on the planet?” asked Wennai as they approached the gate.
“No idea. It could be millions.”
“And were they all enthralled by the ASI?”
“Don’t know. But, one thing is for sure, even if they weren’t, they would have been soon enough. The ASI would have turned out bots all over the place.”
“So I can safely tell Kakko that we’ve saved an entire planet?”
“You could… but you won’t. I’ve had quite enough of her bragging and I’m not joining in.” Shaun spoke firmly.
“Yes, boss.”
“Sorry, Wennai. I… I didn’t mean to—”
“Shaun, you are right. We don’t need to brag about it… I don’t mind you being… well, confident about things. I guess I like you taking a bit of control sometimes… I’m not like Kakko.”
“Anyway,” added Shaun, a bit flustered and not knowing quite how to respond, “no-one can ever really understand what we achieve. You can never assess how important anything actually is. And the moment we tell our tale, Kakko will tell one of hers… and then, after that, she’ll be saying that you and I are more than just friends. You watch.”
Just friends, Wennai reflected but she said nothing. She couldn’t imagine wanting anyone other than Shaun in her life. The most important thing she wanted from Shaun was his friendship, even a friendship greater than the ordinary; but she knew she wanted more than that. Her body and soul ached for him. If it had indeed been God who had given them both a white gate as a command to Shaun to get it together with her, then Shaun wasn’t listening. But deep down, she believed – she knew – Shaun wanted her as much as she wanted him. Her advice to herself was just to hang on in there.
Shaun had guessed exactly how Kakko would react. And when she did, Wennai just kept quiet. Jalli smiled at her, knowingly. “Like a mug of tea, Wennai?”
25
The furore that followed the fire at the Smiths’ house sent ripples throughout the whole of Joh. People had been complacent. They had got so used to living peacefully that the idea of a hate crime against anyone was a real shock. Many were outspoken. How could they remain quiet when such a terrible thing had been aimed at a family that had become such an asset to Johian society for over two decades? The outrage was especially intense among but not confined to, the people they knew personally in the places where they worked, worshipped, studied and, in Shaun and Kakko’s case, played football.
One of the most outspoken was Salma’s wife. She publicly condemned her husband’s actions. His behaviour to her and his family had been poor but this was worse than she ever thought possible. She was anxious to be cleared of all association with him and called on people not to blame her children. She refused to visit Salma in prison but instead made a point of going to see the Zathians from the shuttle and organising a friendship group. The Zathians were grateful.
After several months, they had reconciled themselves to the fact that it was quite unlikely that any other Zathian shuttle would be seen. The couple lived in the university and engaged in scientific research. They advanced a number of areas of enquiry – especially in medicine, where their knowledge of cryogenics and cell repair provided interesting possibilities for the treatment of the human body. The conservationists were also intrigued b
y their ideas. With just a few tweaks, they also confirmed the standard model of particle theory in quantum physics – the Johians hadn’t got round to building a hadron collider to verify their own theories. But perhaps the Zathians’ greatest single contribution was their rich awareness of the spiritual dimensions that can only come through thousands of years of combined consciousness.
The Zathian understanding of Scripture was a dynamic one. Each generation would select a tiny handful of the insights gained by them to add to the body of Scripture that built up over millennia. The debate about what should be included brought many texts into the public arena that enhanced the consciousness of the people. Only that which was truly original and clearly expressed would be added. Long treatises, or ideas that used complex inaccessible language, were rejected. The Zathian computer contained so much accumulated wisdom, that the philosophers and theologians on Joh were almost overwhelmed. The Zathians learned to speak Johian within a few months and were invited to give many a lecture.
But the delight was not all one-way. The Zathians rejoiced in the wonderful beauty of Joh and took a deep interest in its flora and fauna. They said that they would have to make the final Zathian contribution to their Scripture and it would probably be a poem about the wonders of the Creator’s work on Joh. After that they would formally hand over the Scripture to a few young Johians who would be responsible for seeing that it continued to develop. There was quite some interest among the university students.
Shaun’s leg was now almost healed for ordinary purposes but the doctor still would not let him take the field for a game. Shaun knew in his heart he would never get back up to the level he used to be; those days were gone. All he cared about now was being able to get about, keep fit and do some coaching at the club – and being able to sleep without dreaming.
He discovered that he was good at teaching. He had gained a following of likely boys and girls who showed a lot of promise – and it wasn’t just teaching them about football but listening to them when they wanted to talk.
***
Coming home from the worship centre one Sunday lunchtime, Shaun saw a new white gate.
“White gate, Mum,” he announced to Jalli, as carelessly as he could.
“Oh, really. I haven’t got over your last one.”
“It was two months ago.”
“But ever since that time you came home with your leg broken—”
“Mum, last time was OK. I came back whole, didn’t I? We both did.”
“OK. I know how it works. But I’m afraid I’m getting a bit like your nan these days – sometimes life is just too exciting… I don’t think this one is for me. I don’t see a gate… Jack,” she called through the kitchen door, “do you sense a white gate?”
“No,” came a distant voice. “Can you see one?”
“No but Shaun can.”
Shaun called Wennai. She came and looked but this time it wasn’t for her either. Shaun had been invited to travel alone. Beside the gate, Shaun found a wide-brimmed leather hat and a rucksack containing a couple of pairs of khaki shorts, some shirts, a sleeping bag, a cooking stove with a nest of pans with lids that doubled as dishes, a sleeping roll and a one-man tent.
“Wow,” whistled Kakko. “A lone backpacker.”
Wennai looked wishful. “Take care,” she whispered. But she knew he would. In that regard, he was as different from his sister as chalk from cheese. That didn’t stop her being anxious. They all were but Shaun was determined not to show it. He was going in the right direction and he was determined to conquer this thing. He would have liked a companion, though – even just one person like last time. This time Kakko would have been good but it wasn’t to be.
Shaun picked up the rucksack, donned the hat and stepped through the gate. Unsurprisingly, he found himself at the entrance of a caravan and camping park. A big blue sign depicting a single palm tree with the words Oasis Caravan Park in large yellow letters loomed above him. A second sign just along a drive indicated the way to the Oasis Office. He had no idea where he was but although the words were being translated for him, he was sure they were written in English. An oasis was a desert watering hole, only this place had far more than just the one palm tree depicted on the sign. In fact, the tall trees that surrounded the office were not palms at all; they bore long slender blue-green leaves. The grass was a shade of pale green; although it was clearly not a place of great rainfall, it was no desert. The single sun was up but not high in the sky – it felt like morning. There was a fresh smell in the air.
Shaun checked the wallet that came with the pack. It contained some colourful banknotes. Back in the cottage garden the words had been indecipherable – his nan hadn’t been around and the rest of his family couldn’t help. They were still meaningless to him but, now Shaun had looked at the signs around him, he was pretty sure they were English, too. As he scrutinised the notes, a man emerged from the office.
“Good day, mate. You coming in or not?”
“Oh, hi,” said Shaun. “Yeah.”
“What you got there? A small tent. Just you?”
“Yeah,” answered Shaun.
“Sure? You ain’t got a party of guys round the corner or anything?”
“No – no. Should I have?”
“Absolutely not. Single-sex groups are a nightmare.”
“Oh. No,” said Shaun, “it’s just me.”
“Come for the rodeo?”
Shaun looked puzzled. “Sorry, I really don’t know where I am just yet.”
“You a Pom?”
“Pom?”
“Sorry, shouldn’t be rude. English?”
English. His dad was English. Persham was in England. “Yeah,” Shaun smiled.
“First time in Oz?”
“Yeah… Still working out the money,” Shaun added.
“You got ID?”
“Yeah.” He fished in his pocket for his Johian ID and handed it over. The man looked at it. Then at Shaun. At least it was his picture.
“This ain’t British.”
“No. We don’t live in England.”
The man was happy. He had ID. Shaun had money and he seemed a likely young man. He was the second in two days to arrive on foot. The other was Australian. Single young men were attracted by the rodeo.
“Right. Don’t suppose you want electricity?” Shaun shook his head. “Down the main path and keep left. You’ll see the tents at the end.”
Shaun followed the man’s directions until he spotted a small tent like his and a family-size tent close by it. He chose a patch of ground in line with them. Instinctively he looked for somewhere that was on a little rise. The place didn’t look as if it flooded but the ground was hard and a sudden storm might cause run-off into the dips. Shaun was a pretty experienced camper. As a teenager he had been involved in many an expedition into the countryside on Joh, including as a leader in several young people’s camps as part of his training in youth and community work.
He found a suitable solid red-brown rock to help him get his pegs into the hard ground. When he had done, he studied it. It was like the rocks in the place where he had got caught up in the war. The memory fired within him but he knew how to deal with it. There were some similarities but this country was not the same. It was different – it wasn’t so hot for a start. There were plenty of flies here but they didn’t bite like the small ones that buzzed in your ears in that awful war zone.
Shaun walked back to the little shop where he chose a few tins with pictures of vegetables on their labels, and one with fish. His eye caught sight of what Matilda looked forward to Bandi bringing her from Persham: English tea. There was no doubt about it; this was definitely Planet Earth One. He put the tea into his basket and paid for it. He got quite a bit of change. His money was going to last a while. He wished he’d learned the numbers in English. He missed his nan and his brother who were competent English readers.
Back at his tent, he sat down in the shade of a scented tree about eight metres tall. Lo
ng green pods dangled from the branches.
“You from these parts?” A man from the family tent wandered over, interrupting Shaun’s reverie.
“No,” answered Shaun.
“Didn’t think so… But you’re not new to camping – not like that guy next to you. Took him ages to pitch his tent. He’s just kept himself to himself for the past two nights. Just a kid really… So what brings you to Warwick? The rodeo?”
“Just drifting for a few days,” answered Shaun. This wasn’t the time to go into tales of white gates. The man was only making small talk. So this place was called Warwick.
“You like it here?”
“It’s cool. It’s comfortable – apart from the flies.”
The man laughed. “They are worse in the spring. It’s all the stock they keep around here.”
“Tell me about the rodeo.”
“That’s not the place if you want to avoid the flies! It’s the best in the world after the Calgary Stampede, so they say.”
“Where’s that?”
“Calgary? Canada, I think.”
“So why’s this one so special?” Shaun was fishing as well as he could to get information without showing his complete ignorance.
“Riders come from all parts of the country – the world, even. I wondered if you were one of them. And we have some of the meanest horses and bulls to challenge them. Lasting eight seconds on one of them bulls takes some doing.”
Shaun was getting the picture. It was a competition to see who could ride difficult animals the best.
“When does it start? I’ll make sure I get there.”
“Next weekend – just follow the crowds… Ah, here is your neighbour.” A fresh-faced young man was sauntering towards his tent across the field. “Says he’s nineteen. Don’t look it… Hey, mate,” the man called. “You right?”
“Yeah,” shouted the lad. But he didn’t say anything else. He put down a few things and picked up a pan and wandered over to a standpipe.
“Looks lonely,” said the older man. “Not like you. You may be on your tod but you don’t seem lonely like him.” The man’s wife called her husband over. She had two small children ready and was putting them in their car. “See you later, mate.” He joined his family and they drove off.
The Spark (White Gates Adventures Book 4) Page 27
