by Jack Womack
"The only dissembling was in the speeches given on launch day. The weapons entered orbit fully operational. By secret agreement this was judged the safe thing to do."
"How?" I asked. The view now was of thousands of satellites circling the world, fireflies drawn by the shine.
"A technique whereby missiles launched could be diverted from their targets by way of telesignal and sent back to their starting point was developed by the United States. Russia was informed. Secret tests were carried out. An agreement was made whereby each country was allowed to keep the system operational, for whatever reason-not to be used at any time, as agreed publicly, but yet remaining handy. Possibly it would have seemed too great a waste of money, otherwise.
"So what happened to it? How-"
"The program was developed while the American government was in a state of religious flux. As revealed in a letter sent by him to the president immediately before his suicide, the head of the American scientific team claimed that one evening, as he worked, God appeared to him in some human guise, and he converted on the spot. He reworked a certain part of the setup unbeknownest to his fellow workers, which he said God wished him to add. He added. When the system effected, it involved his additional designs."
"What did those do?"
"The system," she said, "can be set off by an activator whose location remained a secret as of his death. He did say that it could be moved or even touched; that he'd placed it where it might be set off, by coincidence, by anyone."
"Why did he do that?"
"His reasoning was that what he called a `Hand of God factor' be present in any plan of humanity's or else the function of God would be usurped by humanity. Though no evidence was found in any file I would suspect paranoid schizophrenia played a role-"
"What'll happen," I asked, "if it is set off?"
"Hear as I tell," she said. "See as I see."
A new image formed on her screen; the scene was of the earth as seen from the moon. Tiny blinking dots circled endlessly around it.
"When activated the mechanics are stylish but simple. Lasers activate each rocket's missiles and each satellite's missiles. Reverse communication signals then go on, directing the path each shall follow. Though the original system has only 90 percent certainty of completion, the Russian missiles will be automatically set off even if but one American missile strikes Russian territory; that is a built-in fail-safe. The missiles begin firing in sequence, geometrically. As programmed, the weapons are knocked down on those who theoretically launched them. Most American missiles hit American targets; most Russian missiles hit Russian targets. Each missile has ten separate warheads aimed at ten separate targets. The sequence progresses until all are fired."
I watched the screen; ribbons of yellow encircled the globe as if someone was wrapping it up to give away. Chrome flashes lightened the surface of the deep. Within a minute, the earth glowed blazing pure; it dulled as fast, whitening with cold, leaving a pale scarred ball reflecting the sun's distant gleam.
"And the glow from that fire," said Alice, "will truly light the world."
The ball continued revolving, as if nothing had happened.
"Wouldn't most of the missiles have fallen out of orbit by now?"
"Orbital decay would ordinarily be a problem," she said, "but each satellite had built within it singularly effective readjustment systems. Gravity will have little effect over them during the foreseeable future."
"But how could he have done it-"
"With ease," said Alice. "The system was redigitalized to respond to a tone different from the ones originally planned. It involved a few minor adjustments and the placement of a new control unit. "
"But-'
"The most inventive feature of the system," she continued, "invokes a rather quantumesque degree of unpredictability."
"What are you talking about?"
"The designer programmed one additional factor to further strengthen the Hand of God factor," she said. "If the system is activated, there is a fifty-fifty chance that such as has been described will occur. There is an equal possibility that nothing at all will happen. There is no way of telling without actually putting the system into operation."
"And I gather that you've discovered how to do that?"
"I have," she said. "Through analysis the activator's location was discovered and thereafter moved to a more secure location. "
"So where are the buttons?"
"That information is unavailable," she said.
"You won't tell me?"
"Under my original programs," she said, "I can't."
Original programs, I thought. "He knows, I take it?" I asked, nodding to the Old Man. He still lay on his stomach, on the floor, holding his head in his hands.
"He does."
Drawing away from Alice, I knelt down beside the Old Man, stooping closer to him, lifting his face toward mine. Before I could even ask, he spoke.
"Had 'em goin' for years," he said, appearing happily abject, and seemingly more sorrowful than he could ever have the right to be. "Nobody knew what was in the damn letter but me after I got ahold of those files. Not even the Joint Chiefs knew for sure. Charlie never told anybody anything if he could help it. 'Sides, the whole idea of the Pax was one of his ideas. He knew he'd land in the history books with that one. He sure as hell didn't want to admit that someone'd fucked it up, but good-"
"Is that why you had Alice developed?" I asked, shaking him. "So she'd be able to figure out the rest of it for you-"
"I didn't," he said. "It was Susie's idea. She said it wasn't good enough that we just had 'em all thinkin' we could set it off. She said we had to be sure that we really could. I didn't like that at all-"
"You don't like threats," I said, holding him up so that he could look over toward Enid. "That's what you said. That's why you did what you did to her. How is it any different-"
"It wasn't a threat," he said. "More like an insurance policy, the way I saw it."
There was no deliberation, no wondering; before I could even begin to think I had my hands around his neck. As I tightened, he choked a few words out.
"Stop. Alice. Tell-"
"Seamus," she said, "before you continue in that manner, I should tell you one final aspect of the system in question as it exists."
"What?" I asked, neither loosening my hold nor letting go.
"When I was programmed to uncover the location of the activator," she said, "one further requisite was given to me."
"What?"
"That once the activator was discovered, and moved, and once he was told where it might be found, I was to place into mode a directive concerning his health."
"His health?" I said, letting my hands drop on his shoulders. He panted heavily as he recovered his breath. "How so?"
"I had a transmitter implanted in me when she was first built," he said. "Anywhere I am, she can read it. She'll know what happens when I die. She'll read the adrenaline figures. Blood pressure rates. Nerve impulses. She'll know right off if I'm killed by someone. If I am, she has directions to set it off. Unerasable directions. "
Every corner was covered, there was no escaping that. Under those circumstances it was easy to understand why he could always do pretty much as he pleased; it would surely simplify things. As I looked at him, I had no certainty of what mood my face expressed.
"Susie was always threatenin' me, goddamnit," he said, practically stomping his feet. "This way I made sure that she wouldn't be able to back it up. Pissed her off, I tell you."
In the event that I might already have terrified him overmuch, I took my hands away from him.
"Once Alice found it, you can make damn sure I never told Susie where the goddamn thing was. But then toward the end she started sneakin' into my room at night to hear what I might say in my sleep. She told me I'd let it slip one time. Said she was gonna tell the boy-"
"That's why you killed her?"
"I wasn't gonna take any chances," he said. "She had a terrible temper.
She just might have lost it completely one day if she'd ever got mad enough at me. And it's not the sorta thing I'd a wanted my son to know. Nobody ought to know it. It's a terrible, terrible thing. Doesn't do any fuckin' good in the long run."
"You haven't done too badly by it in the short run."
"Hell," he sighed, "I coulda got by with a lot less than this. I just never had the chance."
Sometimes there aren't words enough to describe what shouldn't be said. I walked away from him, over to the gurney on which Enid Jay. She lay asleep, calm and still.
"So what now?" I asked. "You have to kill me, too?"
He shook his head. "I think Alice can work something out. Kind of a selective lobotomy-"
"I'd rather be dead."
"I don't mean a full-fledged one," he said. "Seems like she'll be able to just pick out what you know about this. She's gotten better at that sorta thing the past few months. She'll just make it so you don't remember anything about it, so you can't tell nasty stories-"
"I wouldn't."
That concept was so advanced to his mind that it didn't even brush the surface. "We'll fix you up and send you on your merry way. I suspect your sister might be a lot of trouble as time goes along. Do you want-"
"I'll take her with me, thanks."
"Suit yourself," he shrugged. "Let me get you some money-
"I'd rather be guttered."
He stared at me, disbelieving. "What good have principles ever got you, O'Malley? Can you answer me that?"
"No," I said, sure that he wouldn't understand, even if I could tell him. "You'll get by after this, I take it."
"Everything'll be all right," he said. "Barrin' circumstances over which we have no control, what I got's safe from here on out. Nothin'll change now, it's all gettin' too set in the ways. I'll play safer from here on. When I die the knowledge of this'll die with me. It'll be in the hands of E and E alone. Alice'll never tell. Then one day Throttler'll be old enough to fuck it all up as he sees fit. I won't be around by then, so what do I care? My city'll be built.
"Nothin' else'll ever change, really. There'll be good years for some. Bad ones for some. Every year it'll all just get a little bit-more so. It's all for the best, O'Malley. It's nature's way."
That, seemed so good an answer as any. Through that one-way glass I saw Avalon continuing to walk back and forth within that vestibule, as if attempting to gather energies in some way.
"Could I say goodbye to Avalon before I go?"
"Let me get her in here," he said. "Don't blame her, O'Malley. She just wanted to do what was best-"
"For her."
He shrugged again. "Can you blame her?"
"Not really." I thought, in time, that I could.
"I need a companion in my declinin' years," he said, walking over to the room's entranceway. "I'll send Stella and Blanche over to Throttler. I think they're hangin' out with him half the time anyhow. Can't ever find 'em when you need 'em-"
He stuck his head through the door and called out. "Avalon. Come in here a second."
She strolled in with an air of forced nonchalance, her hands thrust deep into the side pockets of her jumpsuit. She had a look about her that suggested, had she been in school again, that she'd just received an invitation to the prom and couldn't wait to tell her friends about it-while, at the same time not wanting to tell them until she'd found out with whom they'd be going. She stared at the Old Man.
"O'Malley's got somethin' to say to you before we take care of him-"
Possibly they'd be able to remove memory of more than just how the system worked, I thought. Avalon smiled.
"I've got something to say to you, too."
Guns in amateur's hands bring no peace; I suppose they can bring satisfaction. Before I knew what was happening, she'd pulled a gun from her pocket; it was the gun I'd been given at Bridge HQ, the one I hadn't wished to take along. The Old Man fell forward as she fired, hitting the floor.
"No!" I screamed, jumping forward and taking the gun from her hands; I threw it across the room. Before it landed lights began coming on across Alice's board. Her monitor blipped out some indeciperable code. Letting loose of Avalon, I got down on my knees, crouching beside the Old Man. There was a vague smile on his face, as if it all seemed too foolish to deserve anything more in the way of acknowledgment. From the look of things, he'd lost a third of his blood; in an even coat it carpeted the shiny white floor. He looked at me; with his hand he motioned me closer to him, that I might give ear to whatever he had to say.
His lips fluttered, as if he searched for the proper phrasing. "Gotta tell you somethin'," he gasped. "Keep it in good hands. See how you live with it."
He told me: he died.
"We're safe now," Avalon said, stroking my hair.
And we were, for a while longer, it seemed. As Alice ran through whatever programs she found herself forced to run through, Avalon told me of her decisions.
"I didn't think we'd ever get away," she said. "And I felt like it'd been my fault. I knew we had to get both of them, somehow. I couldn't think of any other way to do it. It nearly killed me to hurt you so."
I forgave her. Enid woke up, rising from her gurney and attempting to stand. She was wearing a long hospital gown. For a moment she seemed dizzy, but I caught her before she could fall.
"Seamus?" she asked me, after staring at me for a moment to recall my youthful face in days longaway. "Why did I come here?"
I thought for a second. "To have your wisdom teeth taken out," I said. "And to have your braces taken off. Remember?"
"No," she said, running a hand across her brow. "Why did they shave my head?"
"There were complications."
"Is this your new girlfriend?" she asked; I suspected I would have to reintroduce them many times. Avalon's would never be a face that would stay with her longer than a few minutes.
"Yes," I said, hugging Avalon; she looked at me, and looked at Enid.
"She's pretty," Enid said. "Seamus? Can we go home now?"
"Yes, Enid."
"I want to go shopping tomorrow. You want to go with me?"
"Sure, Enid. Where do you want to go?"
"Bloomingdale's," she said. "Saks. We can take the bus down."
Avalon put an arm around Enid's waist, to help her stand without tipping over. When both seemed properly balanced, I walked over to Alice, passing the Old Man, who lay at peace on the floor before her. Alice's blue screen gazed at me, awaiting my questions.
"I'll have George take care of him," she said.
"Have you any idea what happened?" I asked. "You did-"
"I did," she said, "as I was programmed to do. No information is in yet. I should say that I would think that we'd have already noticed had anything gotten under way."
"I'd think so, too," I said. "I think we'll be going."
"I hope to see you again, Seamus," she said. "I enjoy working with you."
"Any advice?" I asked.
"Caveat emptor," she said.
Taking Avalon's arm, reaching round and helping to support Enid, the three of us walked across the room. There was an elevator behind one of the doors, and as it opened we stepped inside.
"Where are we going, Seamus?"
Looking at Avalon and Enid, watching the elevator door slide shut to seal us away, I wondered. For every blessing came damnation, for every win two losses, for every kiss a dozen slaps. A spirit more calm, a life more secure; that was all I'd wanted. Freedom's ring was a siren's cry that terrified those not ready to listen, that deafened those who tried not to hear. It called out awareness I could no longer deny, knowledge I could no longer avoid, truths about which I could no longer lie. There was a choice, after all; there was always a choice in an Ambient world.
"Home. "
From autumn's dark ash sprout spring's green bones, everover, till time's lovely end. Too quick adrift on dreadful shores, too soon cleft from mivida's shape, I judged enow that my place pricked diamond sharp; therein I shall drop dec
eit's chameleon garb, and still the nags that shade cold fortune. In my copesmate's blue mirrors I vizzed loverall, friendall, fatherall, moth- erall; gone, gone, woeful and lostbegone. My soul slipped athwart other's guile; bedded bideaway and left me daubed tarry. Porque? Heartcursed, this stew, this city, this hive of wasps quick to anger; this world long dashed from Godness's paws. Porque? Why not? I pressed the buttons, and we went up.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jack Womack is the author of Let's Put the Future Behind Us, Random Acts of Senseless Violence, Terraplane, Heathern, and Elvissey, which won the Philip K. Dick Award for Fiction. His short fiction has appeared in Omni as well as various anthologies, and his journalism has appeared in Spin. He lives in New York City.
