“Welcome,” he said. Then he pointed his chin toward the edge of the village in the direction of the Concentrator. “You see tawkeeshick?”
“Yes,” Eleanor said. Then she enunciated each syllable of the next word. “Con-cen-tra-tor?”
“Yes, Concentrator,” Amarok said. “Tawkeeshick.” He said the word with a seeming reverence.
So his people had a word for it—
Wait.
His demeanor when talking about the Concentrator, and the fact that his people had a word for it, caused Eleanor to wonder something else. She considered how to ask her next question. “Amarok, how long has tawkeeshick been here?”
Amarok frowned, clearly not understanding. The English he had learned was apparently still very limited.
Eleanor tried to simplify it. “When . . . tawkeeshick?”
“When?” Amarok asked. “Tawkeeshick?”
Eleanor nodded.
Amarok still frowned, but he looked skyward. “Tawkeeshick . . . before.”
“Before? Before what?”
Amarok spread his arms wide. “Before village.”
Did that mean what she thought it meant? “Tawkeeshick was here before your village?”
Amarok nodded. “Tawkeeshick here before.”
But that would mean the Concentrator had been there for over twelve thousand years. That meant no modern government or company had put it there. But how was that possible?
Later that night, back in their mammoth-bone hut, Eleanor posed that question to her mother and the others. They were similarly bewildered.
“I don’t understand,” her mother said. “I knew they had a word for it. I guess I just assumed they invented it when the Concentrator revived them. Are you sure you understood him? Or that he understood you?”
“Very sure,” Eleanor said.
A chilled silence lingered in the hut.
“I’m more certain of one thing,” Dr. Powers said. “No one can get their hands on the Concentrator. Not until we know more, and right now it feels like we know less than when we started.”
“But wait,” Julian said. “Someone had to make that thing, right? I mean, it’s not like it’s natural.”
Everyone agreed with him.
“But there’s no way these cavemen made it,” Julian continued.
Again, everyone agreed.
“Aliens made it,” Finn said. “It’s either that or the Concentrator is from the future. Right?”
“Pardon me,” Eleanor’s mother said, “but I am not prepared to go down either of those roads. It is far more likely we’re dealing with an error in translation.”
But Eleanor didn’t believe there had been any error.
Dr. Powers cleared his throat. “Let’s put this aside until we’ve had a good night’s sleep. We’ll look at it with fresh eyes in the morning.”
They all went to bed a short time later, but Eleanor didn’t fall asleep right away. She lay awake, thinking about what Finn had said.
Different eyes. Different minds.
What if he was right? Only a week ago, Eleanor would have laughed at the idea, but now, having come to this alien, Arctic place, and having seen and felt the Concentrator for herself, it didn’t seem absurd at all.
When Eleanor finally did fall asleep, the black and terrible branches of the Concentrator twisted through her dreams.
CHAPTER
19
ELEANOR DIDN’T WANT TO RETURN TO THE CONCENTRATOR. But her mother refused to leave her alone in the village, and Eleanor didn’t feel like protesting. So she braced herself against the hum as they crossed the tundra once again. When they reached the crater, the black tree rose up from the center as inscrutably as it had the day before.
“See?” Finn said. “That looks alien to me.”
“Son,” Dr. Powers said, shaking his head.
But even in the light of a new day, Eleanor still agreed with him, in spite of her mother’s argument for common sense. Eleanor knew what Amarok had meant.
They descended into the crater, toward the Concentrator. The ever-present humming hadn’t yet begun to assault Eleanor. She expected it to pummel her as soon as her mom turned the scanner on, but her mother didn’t. Instead, she pulled out another, smaller instrument, along with Eleanor’s Sync.
“Now,” she said. “Let’s figure out where the energy is going.”
She and Dr. Powers both held up devices, walking around, measuring, conferring with each other. They worked, time passed, and Eleanor found herself growing somewhat accustomed to the strangeness of this place. The wrongness of the Concentrator never quite faded, but Eleanor found she could ignore it. Finn and Julian just seemed bored.
“You don’t really think it’s aliens, do you, bro?” Julian had his mouth cocked in a mocking grin.
Finn shrugged. “What’s it to you?”
“I’m just embarrassed for you.”
“Are you embarrassed for me, too?” Eleanor asked.
“Why?” Julian asked. “Don’t tell me you believe it.”
Eleanor also shrugged.
Sometime later, her mother and Dr. Powers walked over to them.
“It’s not just a Concentrator,” her mother announced. “It’s also converting the telluric energy.”
“Converting it into what?” Eleanor asked.
“Some form of energy we can’t detect,” her mother said. “But the telluric currents are definitely concentrating here, and the law of conservation says the energy must still exist in one form or another.”
“What about dark energy?” Dr. Powers said.
“Simon.” Eleanor recognized the condescending angle of her mother’s gaze. “That is as improbable as—”
“Hear me out, Sam.” Dr. Powers pointed up into the Concentrator’s branches. “There is way too much energy pouring into this thing for us to lose all sign of it. Unless it’s getting converted into something our instruments can’t read.”
“True,” her mother said, stretching the word out.
“There aren’t that many types of energy our instruments can’t read,” he said.
Eleanor thought back to science class. Theoretically, dark energy permeated the universe, more plentiful than any other kind of matter, but undetectable, as if outside our perception and existence. What if someone—something—had figured out how to harness it?
“Dark energy would explain a lot,” Dr. Powers said.
“But it doesn’t explain where the energy is going,” her mother said. “What, you think this dark energy is just shooting up into the vacuum of space?”
That sparked something in Eleanor’s memory. All this talk of aliens, and dark energy, and space—it all came together into something that haunted the edge of her thoughts.
“I don’t know, Sam,” Dr. Powers said. “But none of the likely scenarios have panned out. We’re off the map here.”
Map. Space.
“The star chart,” Eleanor said.
Her mother turned to her. “What’s that, sweetie?”
“You sent me a G.E.T. star chart.” Eleanor pointed at the Sync in her mother’s hand. “Finn said there was an extra orbit.”
“That’s right,” Finn said.
Dr. Powers looked at Eleanor’s mother.
“I never had a chance to look at some of the G.E.T. files I copied.” Her mother brought up the Sync. “I suppose it might . . . Here it is.” Then she and Dr. Powers began scanning the screen, staring at it for several moments. They looked up at each other.
“Simon,” her mom said. “This can’t be . . .”
“Finn, you were right,” Dr. Powers said. “But it’s not just an extra orbit. According to this, there’s an extra planet in our solar system.”
“What?” Julian said. “Did you just say an extra planet?”
Dr. Powers lowered his voice, almost to a whisper. “Sam . . .” He shook his head. “This is—”
“This chart must be hypothetical,” her mother said. “A simulation. It’s ju
st too—”
“I don’t think it is,” Dr. Powers said. “It explains everything.”
“What does?” Finn asked.
Dr. Powers looked upward. “A rogue planet.”
“Wait, what’s a rogue planet?” Julian asked, sounding frustrated.
“They roam between solar systems,” Dr. Powers said. “They start out orbiting a star, like any other planet, and then something happens. Their star goes supernova, they get knocked out of orbit by an asteroid, something like that, and they end up orphaned in space. Sometimes, they wander into another solar system, and their gravity plays havoc.”
“That’s why we’re in an ice age?” Finn asked.
“Yes, son.” Dr. Powers shook his head. “If this chart is correct, the rogue planet in our solar system is almost the size of Mars. Its gravity is pulling us away from the sun, into the cold of space. And it’s not going to stop.”
Did that mean what Eleanor feared it did? That the Freeze would never end? That the world would continue to grow colder until it became a lifeless ball of ice just floating through space?
“Look at the date, Simon,” her mother said. “Skinner has had this star chart since the beginning of the Freeze. He knows about this. He knows why the earth has left its orbit, and he hasn’t said anything about it!”
“How has he kept this a secret?” Julian asked.
“Maybe it’s like the dark energy,” Eleanor said. “Maybe it’s like the Concentrator. Maybe it’s meant for different eyes, and we can’t really detect it. Just its gravity.”
“But—” Julian sounded angry. “Everyone in the world has been asking why the Freeze is happening, and Skinner knew the entire time? That’s just—”
“Skinner can’t be the only one who knows,” Eleanor’s mother said.
“No,” Dr. Powers said. “He can’t. This has to go all the way to the top. Probably the UN. It’s a cover-up on a massive scale.”
“But why?” Julian asked.
“To preserve order, I would guess.” Dr. Powers sighed. “To keep the peace. To preserve life. If Skinner knows about the rogue planet, then he must also know what that means for our world. It’s no wonder he wants the energy here so badly.”
“I almost can’t blame him,” her mother said, returning her attention to the Sync.
Rogue planets. Aliens on earth ten thousand years ago. Dark energy. The end of the world. This was all too overwhelming. Eleanor had to stop and repeat to herself what had been said, to make sure she had understood everything.
“Sweetie,” her mother said, “what’s this?”
“What?” Eleanor asked.
“This message you sent. These are the coordinates I gave you. Who did you send them to?”
“You,” Eleanor said.
Her mother frowned, appearing confused.
“Remember?” Eleanor said. “You contacted me when we were lost on the ice. I sent the coordinates back to you. It was the only way I could tell you where we were.”
Her mother’s sunburned cheeks paled. “Eleanor, I don’t have my Sync.”
“You don’t? But I thought—”
“After I erased my data,” her mother said, “I left my empty Sync in our camp.”
In their camp? The abandoned camp Skinner had found? But that would mean—
“Oh no,” Eleanor said.
“It was Skinner,” her mother said.
Guilt tore through Eleanor’s chest. Her mother had entrusted her with that information. Eleanor had protected it, until last night when she had sent the coordinates to the very person her mother had tried to hide them from.
“I thought it was you,” Eleanor whispered.
“Oh, honey . . . ,” her mother began.
“That’s exactly what Skinner wanted you to think,” Dr. Powers said. “He played you like he’s been playing the whole damn world.”
“He may have the coordinates,” Eleanor’s mother said, “but he doesn’t know about this place down here.” She reached and touched Eleanor’s cheek with the back of her hand. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered.
“Your mother is right,” Dr. Powers said. “Skinner doesn’t know about the fissure, and it’s a good quarter mile from the coordinates, on the other side of the cavern. He’ll be here soon. Any moment, perhaps, but he’ll get to the site and think he has to drill through the ice. That’ll buy us some time.”
Time for what? Even without Skinner, the Concentrator was still gathering the earth’s energy, while above them somewhere a rogue planet drew closer with its dark gravity, pulling the world into a frozen grave.
They had dinner with Amarok’s village again that evening. Eleanor’s mother and Dr. Powers tried to talk to Amarok about the Concentrator but arrived at the same conclusion that Eleanor had already come to—that the device was of very ancient origin. It seemed impossible to her that the Concentrator and the rogue planet weren’t connected in some way. Eleanor could sense it just as clearly as she could sense that pervasive hum.
She wondered if Amarok’s tribe could feel it. Or was it like those people who lived under power lines? Eventually, they just got used to the buzzing. Something about these Paleolithic people certainly felt different. It was like they crackled, especially gathered together as they were here. What had the energy of the Concentrator done to them? It had given them life, but at what price?
After they’d all finished eating, Amarok’s village replayed the ritual of the previous night, but this time some of the villagers took turns telling stories. The tales pulled Eleanor’s thoughts away from the Concentrator, and even in a different language, something about each of them felt familiar. She wasn’t sure whether she just imagined it, but there always seemed to be a hero, and a struggle, as though all stories were the same in the end.
As the fire burned low, Amarok finally took the stage and told a tale of his own. Eleanor heard him say “tawkeeshick” and realized he was telling a story about the Concentrator. Did they know its inexplicable power had brought them back to life? Eleanor imagined a day, many generations from that night, when Amarok’s people might have a new myth of their creation, the story of their birth from the black tree, and she wondered if the myth they told now was any less true than that.
Eleanor felt conflicted about the Concentrator. A part of her was terrified of it and wanted never to go near it. But another part of her wanted to understand it and was even drawn to it. No, pulled toward it, almost against her will. It was the key to everything. To the Freeze, the rogue planet, all of it. She had to see it again, as much as it frightened her.
Eleanor rose to her feet.
Sitting nearby, her mother asked, “Where are you going?”
“A walk,” Eleanor said. “Just need to stretch my legs.”
Her mom nodded. “Don’t go far.”
Eleanor ducked away, the glow of firelight at her back. It was night in the cavern now, just as it was on the surface. The sunlight that normally found its way down here through the glacier, following hidden facets of ice, had been replaced by starlight, turning the veins of gold to silver. The communal fire pit burned red behind her at the center of the village, the silhouetted villagers gathered around it.
Eleanor turned away from them toward the tundra and walked. It felt good to breathe the chilly air. It felt good to walk on the tundra’s grass and moss.
“Hey, wait up!” Eleanor turned as Finn ran to join her. “Is it okay if I walk with you?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“Where are we going?”
“If you want to walk with me, don’t ask.”
He held up his hands. “Okay, then.”
The cavern sounds filled the following silence—the drip of water, the hollow breeze coming out of the canyon on the far side, and the voices from the village growing distant.
The hum was there, too. That same vibration, growing stronger as she crossed the tundra, tugging at her as though she had stepped into a river.
“You seriously don’t feel that?” she said.
“Feel what?”
“That . . . hum.”
He looked around. “Nope.”
“I think it’s the telluric current,” she said. “I think I can feel it.”
Before Finn could respond to that, a low, familiar rumble shook the ground. The smell of musk. Then one of the boulders seemed to dislodge itself from the ground.
“Kixi,” Eleanor whispered.
The woolly mammoth came toward them, a presence Eleanor sensed rather than saw, until she caught the glint in the animal’s eyes and felt a blast of hot breath from her trunk.
Eleanor stopped and held still. “Hello, gorgeous.”
The tip of Kixi’s trunk found her again, her cheek this time, then moved down to her shoulder, then her arm, to her hand, which Eleanor cupped around the end of the dry, velvet nose.
“It’s kind of crazy,” Finn said. “She is literally the only one of her kind on the whole planet.”
“She’s all alone.” Eleanor felt a sudden squeezing in her throat, which turned into a little sob before she could stop it. But she got it under control, sniffed, and wiped her nose, and then Kixi lifted her trunk to Eleanor’s face again, touching a cheek now wet with tears. “I’m sorry,” Eleanor whispered. “I’m sorry you’re alone.”
More than anyone or anything Eleanor had ever encountered, Kixi did not belong. She shouldn’t be here. None of this should be here. And when Skinner and his scientists found what they were looking for down here, what then? She didn’t know what the G.E.T. would do with the Concentrator once they found it, but felt she could safely assume it would mean the end of Kixi, and Amarok, and his whole tribe. Their home and way of life would be taken from them, and who knew what the loss of the energy from the Concentrator would mean for them?
“Good girl,” Eleanor said. “You magnificent girl, Kixi. I won’t let them do it. I promise.” Then she turned away and resumed her trek across the tundra.
“Where are we going?” Finn asked.
“What did I say about asking that question?”
“Sorry. It just . . . seems like we’re heading to the Concentrator.”
“We are,” Eleanor said.
The Arctic Code Page 16
