by Steven Gould
I juggled figures in my head. That was less than half of one percent of the current population.
Mexico City had a bigger population. Mom would’ve opened the gate after five billion had died?
I asked a question, “How many worlds have the gate technology?”
“Only one. And fortunately, that’s all that ever will.”
“Why?”
Mom tilted her head. “It’s the nature of the phenomenon. The simple answer is that as long as we’re operating cross-path gates, nobody else will be able to. They could discover the technology but it just won’t work—they’d think it’s a dead end. Not unless we shut down every gate we’ve ever opened. And we keep several open, just as backups, to prevent this from ever happening. We were lucky to be first.”
“If you gave people access to the wildside, what’s to keep them from using this gate to go to other paths? I, mean, if they study it long enough won’t they be able to figure it out?”
“Not without the controller, and we wouldn’t turn the gate over without first destroying it.”
“Couldn’t they figure out how to switch it? I mean the principles?” I felt guilty for asking questions with her face still wet with tears, but I couldn’t stop myself.
“No, Charlie. Because it’s not all here. The rest of this gate—the fusion reactor which powers it, and its alignment matrix—are floating in a cloud of interstellar hydrogen in a path where this entire solar system never formed. They can’t get at that, no matter what happens. And without that, they’ll never figure out the gate.
“Besides, if it becomes necessary to turn the gate over, I’m able to shift the whole mechanism into the reactor path—leaving only the opening which won’t close until the reactor fails in a thousand years or so.”
“What if they need to shut it?” Clara asked.
“They can build a door. They can bury it. They can cork it. They can put an airlock on it. Whatever it takes.” She sighed. “If it comes to that, I don’t really care.” Her shoulders slumped.
“Mom, why not give them the gate now? Before there are any more extinctions? Before billions die?” I knew the answers. I’d given them to Dad when he’d asked the same question back on the wildside.
Mom spread her hands apart. “Think about it. What incentive is there to protect biomes if somebody knows there’s a pristine backup available. Whooping cranes? There are millions on the other side—we’ll just turn this refuge into condos. Rain forest? Plenty over there—bring in those cement trucks. Waterways? Dump those toxins in—we can always get more fish from the other side.
“Pristine farmland, untouched. Your starving refugees in Africa, Asia, Europe, Mexico—let them homestead. Let them hunt, let them tear up the topsoil, let them mine, let them cut down forests. How long before both sides are ruined?
“You don’t use a lifeboat as living quarters, or to store trash, or as a source of building materials. The time will come when you really need it—and it won’t be there.”
“I knew that, really,” I said. “But twenty million people, moving through that little gate?”
Mom said listlessly, “Oh, the gate could be larger. It can stretch to about thirty meters on a side, but you get severe local weather problems if the barometric pressures are too different.”
I muttered, “All that effort to fit pieces of an airplane through.” Clara and I exchanged glances.
She looked as numb as I felt.
Mom exhaled sharply and pulled herself up, metamorphosing into the woman I knew. “I got discouraged, sometimes. I thought that my active role was gone with the gate, but I still watched—habit, I guess. Frankly, it’s a relief. With the gate gone, I don’t have that burden.”
I must’ve gotten an odd look on my face, because she suddenly frowned. “Give me a hand with this suitcase, will you, Charlie?”
I shuffled forward and helped her put it on the shelf. As we pushed it in she leaned toward me and whispered. “Is the gate shut for good?”
I licked my lips. “Well, let’s just say you shouldn’t get rid of your controller.”
She stared at me for a moment, opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again. Finally, she put her hand on my shoulder and said, “We’ll talk.”
“I’m sure.”
Dad and Mom drove me out to the ranch, dropping Clara at the stables.
“You sure you wouldn’t like us to take you to your parents’ or your apartment?”
“Need to pick up my motorcycle, which is here. Also have to take some feed out to my horse, so I’ll be out there pretty quick, Charlie.”
My parents didn’t talk much the rest of the way out to the ranch, but Mom sat in the center, right next to Dad.
There was a deputy sheriff at the gate and two news vans. The deputy got out of his car when we slowed to turn. Dad rolled down the window and stopped the car.
“Afternoon, Officer.”
“Good afternoon. Do y’all have business out here?”
I leaned forward. “I own this property. My parents are driving me home.”
“Ah, could I see some ID? I’ve been told to keep the press off this property.”
I dug out my wallet and gave him my driver’s license. “Who gave the orders?”
He handed the license back and said, “I believe Senator Loughery talked to the sheriff.”
“Ah.” I didn’t know whether to be pissed or relieved. The last thing I wanted just now was to talk to a bunch of reporters, but did I really want my government keeping the press away from me? “There’ll be a young woman on a motorcycle coming out soon. She has a horse on this property that she’s coming out to care for.”
“I’ll pass her right through. May I have her name?”
“Clara Prentice.”
He nodded, and we drove on.
There were tire tracks everywhere. I saw cigarette butts in the grass where sentries had paced.
The side of the house, where the gate had opened before my truck, was scorched, the outer layer chopped away, but the fire must’ve been put out quickly, ‘cause the plaster within was intact.
When I limped in the front door I saw that an attempt had been made to straighten the place.
Though the mattress was missing from my room, the sheets, blankets, and pillows had been stacked neatly on the springs. I thought about checking the rooms upstairs but the thought of limping up the stairs was too much.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
I nodded and hugged Mom. There were a million questions to ask, but the possibility existed that they’d bugged the house. The questions would have to wait.
She kissed me on the forehead and held me out at arm’s length. “You did right, Charlie, to keep the gate away from them.”
I shrugged, embarrassed and pleased. “Time will tell,” I said. “You guys go on. I bet you’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“So we do,” Dad said, and shook my hand. “See you later, son. It’s been…educational.”
I stood on the porch and watched them drive away.
Clara drove up on her dirt bike five minutes later, an enormous bag of horse feed lashed to the seat behind her. She drove the bike right up to the barn and I limped across the yard to join her.
By the time I got there, she’d poured Impossible some feed and was checking his legs for scratches or bumps while he gobbled his food down.
“How is he?”
She looked up at me and smiled. “He seems fine. It can’t have been easy, sending him across before you blew the gate. Thanks.”
I shrugged. “How could I face you if I left him behind?”
She patted Impossible’s neck and said, “You shouldn’t be standing on that knee, Charlie.” She walked over to me and pulled my arm across her shoulders. “Come on.” She helped me across the yard and into the house.
“Wait here,” she said, and helped me to sit on the couch, then she went back into the bathroom and I could hear water running in the tub. After a moment, sh
e came back and walked me down the hall, lowered me to sit on the toilet, then turned and pushed the bathroom door closed.
“Charlie, I want to wash.” They were the same words she’d used up in the mountains, at Cripple Creek.
“Uh, so I must have the watch?”
“Yes,” she said, and began unbuttoning her shirt. “Watch this way.”
We went through three changes of water before I was clean. Then we put the cushions from the couch on the living room floor and used my sheets and pillows to make a bed.
What we did next belongs to us and I won’t share it.
Early the next morning I lay on the grass in front of Dad’s hangar, getting dew on my clothes, as Clara played tag with Impossible, chasing him around in circles, then running from him as he chased her. Finally, out of breath, she dropped to the grass beside me. “Damn, it’s hot. I’m going to miss the cooler weather on the other side.”
I kept my voice down. “We’ll have cooler weather here in a month or two. And for next year…we’ll have to be careful with our preparations. Don’t want the feds to get suspicious.”
She pulled back from me. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“The wildside. When we go back.”
Her eyes widened. “But you blew up the gate! Or shut it down, which amounts to the same thing. You can’t open it from this side.”
“Don’t be silly. Would I ever do a thing like that?”
“You said you did.”
I pulled a long stem of grass and stuck it in the corner of my mouth. “Consider the circumstances. And I did shut down the gate. But I used Joey’s timer, solar panel, and batteries. The gate will open next spring, the fourteenth day of March, five minutes before midnight.”
She thumped back onto the grass, staring straight up. “I knew you wouldn’t give it up. Why then?”
“Had to give the feds some time to give up, or at least lighten their watch. But I didn’t want to leave it so long that the timer died.
“There’ll be a lot of work to do on the base. We’ll need a new tractor. Cutting back the grass on the runway. Getting the Maule in shape. There’s a lot of stuff to find out about the wildside.”
She propped herself up on one elbow and stared at me.
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
I grinned. “Yeah.”
“This time they’ll bring a battalion.”
“This time we’ll have a working tractor. We’ll move the gate. Hell, if I can get my mom to teach me how that control works, who knows what we can do.”
Clara rolled completely over, both her elbows on the ground. “Why didn’t you tell your parents when she showed us the control?"
“Mom knows. She asked me. As to Dad, well, he has enough adjusting to do right now—better to keep things simple.”
“You know? You scare me, Charlie.”
“You coming?” I held my breath.
“Why do you think I’m scared? Of course I’m coming.”
I exhaled an enormous breath and grinned. “Oh, good. Very, very good.” I dragged myself across the ground and kissed her deeply. I started to pull away, but she put her hand behind my head and held me there a moment longer.
When my breathing had slowed again, I said, “You think Joey and Marie will come? Rick?”
“Try and stop them,” Clara said. “Try and stop them.”
EPILOGUE
Dear Mom,
Little Masha loved the books. Max thinks his books are okay, but he’d rather be doing fieldwork. He said for his tenth birthday he’d like a tranquilizer gun and some radio collars. He says he wants to use them on the big cats, the S., but I’m afraid he’d use them on his little sister. Sound like his great-uncle?
We had a long visit from Joey, Marie, and their kids. They’re still living in Bryan and getting up here to Colorado is really different for them. While they were here, Joey and I went out the Back Door and panned a little gold. Looks like it will be a hard winter over there. The elk and the M. are already moving down to the lower elevations and the coats on the M. are impressively thick.
Rick called from Washington. He says he finally got rid of all the boxes from the move. He thinks he’s going to like Georgetown, but doesn’t know how long a lecturer’s salary will stretch. He doesn’t want to touch his share of the Wildside Investments fund, to maximize his earnings.
The FBI came around again, supposedly to see if we’d been having any more problems with the DIA. But of course we haven’t—not since the last federal court order. Luis says be polite and say nothing of substance. And turn the videotape on.
They really don’t like video cameras.
Hope you and Dad are enjoying the Amazon. Use plenty of insect repellent.
We won’t be here when you get back. As soon as winter shuts down the Back Door, we’ll be back at the Ethiopian site. We’re making real progress with the new arid-tolerant varieties. I think we’ve reclaimed another thirty square kilometers of desert. It’s tiny, I know, but we’re getting more people at the training center all the time and several other sub-Saharan countries are sending observers.
We’re mutating the mission, I guess, but we’re not willing to just watch, to just wait.
I don’t want to go the lifeboat route.
Time will tell.
About the Author
Steven Gould lives in New Mexico with his wife, author Laura J. Mixon, and their two daughters. His short fiction has been nominated for the Hugo and Nebula awards and his novels have been chosen by the American Library Association as “Best Books For Young Adults.” Jumper was one of the hundred most banned books in America between 1990 and 1999 which only goes to show that people should read past page nine. Steven says the secret to teleportation is [THIS PASSAGE CLASSIFIED--REF: NSA-3443-ALPHA-HOTEL-ZEBRA].
Steven says the real secret to teleportation is reading. Be transported, imagine!
For more information about Steven, see his website (http://eatourbrains.com/steve).
Table of Contents
Copyright
Books by Steven Gould
Dedication
Table of Contents
Prologue
Part One: PREPARATIONS
Chapter 1: "THEY'RE EXTINCT."
Chapter 2: "IT'S LOADED SO BE CAREFUL."
Chapter 3: "SO, YOU THINK HE WENT THROUGH AND GOT MUNCHED?"
Chapter 4: "WE WANT TO BE ABLE TO SEE ANY PREDATORS."
Chapter 5 "GET OUT OF MY LIFE!"
Chapter 6: "HE'S GONNA STALL."
Chapter 7: "DO YOU HAVE THE MOSSBERG STAINLESS STEEL TWELVE-GAUGE PUMP WITH THE OPTIONAL PISTOL GRIP?"
Part Two: EXLORATIONS
Chapter 8: "THERE ARE WOLVES."
Chapter 9: "FACED WITH JAIL, IT'S REALLY NO CHOICE, RIGHT?"
Chapter 10: "YOU WALK QUIET, BUT YOUR FACE-WELL YOUR FACE STOMPS AROUND LIKE AN ELEPHANT."
Chapter 11: "WE'VE LOST THE ."
Part Three: DESTINATIONS
Chapter 12: "HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO CLIMB THAT?"
Chapter 13: "I SAY PUSH IT."
Part Four: COMPLICATIONS
Chapter 14: "GO, GO, GO!"
Chapter 15: "I'M SCARED OF THINGS I DON'T UNDERSTAND."
Chapter 16: "HURT HIM AND YOU DIE!"
Chapter 17: "THERE ARE BONES, CHARLIE-HUMAN BONES."
Chapter 18: "WE DON'T WANT TO CUT ANYBODY IN HALF."
Chapter 19: "IF I'D HAD MY SHOTGUN IN MY HANDS, I WOULD'VE FIRED."
Chapter 20: "TRY AND STOP THEM."
Epilogue
About the Author
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