Mercury Rises

by Robert Kroese

  He continued, "The Egyptians had better luck getting their pyramids completed, but unfortunately for them they were building in the wrong place. There are only a few places where our reality comes close to overlapping the one above us, and Egypt isn't one of them. The Babylonians knew how close they had come, though, and they handed down their knowledge through the generations, in the hopes that someday their quest would come to fruition. It was clear that building massive pyramids or ziggurats attracted too much attention, but it was hoped that a less conspicuous means would be found to tear open the veil.

  "The Babylonian priests formed a secret order, known as the Order of the Pillars of Babylon, to guard their knowledge of the higher reality. The Order eventually became very wealthy and powerful, devoting vast resources to researching the mysteries of the occult---with no success. Three millennia passed by without any breakthrough.

  "It was in the nineteenth century that the order finally gave up mysticism and redirected its efforts into scientific pursuits. But after a hundred years of fruitless scientific research, the OPB was about ready to give up science as well.

  "In the end, the breakthrough came in the form of quantum physics applied to the work of a little known medieval philosopher called Saint Culain. I won't bore you with the details, but Culain realized that the secret of the higher reality was bound up with the secret of time itself. Culain believed that time was made up of particles he called chrotons. Culain was never particularly respected, and his ideas fell even more out of favor when Einstein demonstrated that time was relative. Before Einstein, people thought of space and time as being a sort of inert backdrop against which events occurred. But Einstein showed that time and space are interrelated, and that they can be affected by events. The idea that space was its own 'thing,' made up of ether or some other medium, went by the wayside, and the notion that time itself was made of particles became even more ridiculous. But I don't have to tell you this; you're a physicist."

  Jacob shrugged. "I'm a practical scientist, not a theoretical physicist. But I know the basics. Niels Bohr and Heisenberg and the rest of them came along and pointed out some problems with Einstein's theories. Their ideas give rise to quantum physics, which teaches that at the smallest scale, the Einsteinian rules break down."

  "Exactly," said Finch, excitedly. "Basically, everything in the Universe, whether it's energy or matter, is made up of quanta. Light is made up of quantum units called photons. Matter is made up of quantum units called fermions. But then the obvious question is: what is time? And that brings us back to Saint Culain and his chrotons."

  Jacob shook his head. "There are no such things as chrotons. I'm aware of the idea of quantum time, but even the nuttiest proponents of it don't believe in your chrotons."

  "Nuttiness isn't really a useful attribute for determining accuracy," Finch replied, undeterred. "And the fact is, proponents of quantum time do believe in chrotons. They just call them something else."

  It took Jacob a moment to realize where Finch was headed. "Gravitons," he said.

  Finch smiled. "Exactly. The theory is that space-time is made up of elementary particles called gravitons. But gravitons are simply chrotons by another name. Quantum physicists are obsessed with gravity and frightened by time, so they call them 'gravitons.' It's like pigeons and doves."

  "Pigeons and doves?"

  "There's no definitive biological distinction between a pigeon and a dove. But if you were walking down the street in Manhattan and you commented on all the lovely doves picking food out of the cracks of the sidewalk, people would think you were a little nutty. Conversely, if you released a hundred pigeons at a wedding, you'd be acting in very poor taste. And yet, from the biologist's perspective, they are the same animal."

  "Aren't doves white?" asked Jacob.

  "There's no firm rule," said Finch, "Although it's true that pigeons used in ceremonies tend to be albinos. So if you think about it, in addition to representing peace, the dove could double as a symbol for white supremacy. Anyway, the point is that it's all a matter of context. A pigeon is a pigeon, whether or not he's invited to your wedding. Culain came up with chrotons a thousand years before anybody had ever considered the notion of a graviton, so I'm sticking with his terminology. Not to mention that 'what is time?' is a more interesting question than 'what is gravity?'

  "Think about it, Jacob! What if there really is something like a chroton, an elementary unit that makes up time itself? In that case, time, rather than being something mysterious and completely out of our control, is just another building block of reality. Time doesn't have to always move forward any more than ice always has to come in cubes. If we isolate the chroton, we control time itself. Hell, we control everything. Once we can step outside of time, we've broken through to the higher reality!"

  "Holy shit," said Jacob.

  "I know, right?" exclaimed Finch. "Isn't it awesome?"

  "No," said Jacob. "I meant, 'holy shit, you're insane.' And you still haven't answered any of my questions. Particularly the one about the pretzels."

  "I apologize," said Finch. "I will get to your questions. Now as I mentioned, there are only a few places on earth where a doorway can be opened to the plane above us. This is due to the location of what I call meta-energy streams. Where our reality is closest to the reality above us, there is a convergence of the streams."

  "This is all nonsense," said Jacob. "There's no evidence of any 'meta-energy streams.' You're mixing highly theoretical physics with mystical mumbo-jumbo."

  "It may seem so," said Finch. "But first of all, you have to understand that the term 'meta-energy stream' is just a metaphor. We understand these so-called 'streams' about as well as physicists understood the atom a hundred years ago. When I was in school, I was taught that an atom was comprised of a bunch of protons and neutrons kind of glommed together, with electrons whizzing around the nucleus like planets orbiting the sun. It turns out, of course, that this is a wildly misleading model. But it was people using essentially that model who designed the atomic bomb, so I guess it was close enough for government work.

  "Anyway, the point is this: quantum physics teaches us that our own observations of a phenomenon can affect the outcome of a phenomenon. What mainstream physics has not yet come to terms with is the fact that this is true not only on a micro scale, but also on a macro scale. Not only do submicroscopic particles misbehave as a result of observation, entire universes do!

  "Within our reality, there are actually multiple universes. Call them 'planes,' for simplicity. Sometimes these planes bump up against each other, and sometimes they even slide over top of one another. This interplanar friction causes a release of energy---well, not energy exactly, but what I call meta-energy. You can think of this meta-energy as holding the different planes together the way fruit is held together in Jell-O. If the Jell-O vibrates, the fruit vibrates with it, and sometimes the vibrations cause two pieces of fruit to collide. Now the question is: what is making the Jell-O vibrate?"12

  "No," replied Jacob irritably. "The question is more along the lines of 'what the hell am I doing here, and why aren't there any pretzels?' Seriously, I don't know who you think I am, exactly, but I don't know anything about parallel universes made of Jell-O. I'm just a guy who analyzes explosions for the FBI. That's it."

  "I think you know more than you let on," Finch said. "But perhaps I have strayed too far into the theoretical. The point is that that there is a reality outside the Jell-O. If you could get outside the Jell-O, you could see all of the fruit at the same time, from any angle. All of reality, past, present, and future. You could go anywhere, do anything, at any point in history. You could see the source of the vibrations and conceivably even affect them. You could create new universes or destroy them!"

  Jacob sighed. "I don't suppose you can prove any of this."

  "Well, of course not," said Finch. "That's the whole point of the CCD, isn't it? The chrono-collider device is designed to instigate a high-speed collision of ions, in th
e hopes of releasing and channeling chrotons. The OPB built the CCD in Los Angeles back in the thirties, but they never got it to work. A shame, too, after all the work that went into it. Buying up orchards, getting rid of the streetcars, building giant amusement parks as a cover for all the massive machinery and construction...It would have been easier to build it out in the desert, but our calculations told us that southeastern Los Angeles was the perfect site for the collider."

  "Because of the convergence of the energy streams," Jacob said dryly.

  "Yes," replied Finch. "Er, no. Well, sort of. The streams didn't quite converge in L.A., which ironically made it an ideal spot for the CCD. Two streams came very close to meeting in L.A., which caused a near-perfect balance of the meta-energy. Los Angeles was situated between the two streams the way Babylon was located between the Tigris and the Euphrates. But as I said, the Anaheim CCD failed. And now the meta-energy streams seem to have moved, so that they now cross somewhere in Glendale, sending the whole business out of whack."

  "Tragic," said Jacob.

  "No matter," said Finch. "The Anaheim collider was shut down decades ago. They never did get it to work properly, and after the 1950s the area was too densely populated to conduct tests there without anyone noticing. So about twenty years ago, we started laying the groundwork for a new collider, here in Kenya. The meta-energy streams are almost as well balanced here as in L.A., and there's the added benefit that the only people within fifty miles of here are primitive tribesmen with almost no contact with the outside world. If you want to conduct secret experiments aimed at discovering the fundamental mysteries of the Universe, this is the place to do it."

  "And what do you need me for?" Jacob asked.

  "Ah, yes," said Finch. "The crux of the matter. You see, Jacob, I've had a bit of a personnel issue. My chief physicist has unfortunately developed some misgivings about the project, so I need someone familiar with the design of the CCD to activate the collision sequence. That's where you come in."

  "Um, no," said Jacob, shaking his head. "I'm not your guy. I haven't studied quantum mechanics for ten years, and even then I was no expert. I never even heard of a chrono-collider before today. I swear to God."

  Finch laughed. "Yet you happened to be inside the L.A. collider only seconds before we blew it up. And you happened to be the only one of a team of government scientists to figure out that the Anaheim Event was not an explosion but an implosion. No, Mr. Slater, I'm afraid I don't buy it."

  "You don't buy it?" Jacob growled. "You kidnap me, fly me to a secret hideout in Africa, and spend ten minutes spewing out the most ridiculous metaphysical bullshit I've ever heard, and now you've got the gall to tell me that you don't buy the fact that I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time? You've got the wrong guy, you jackass. Even if I could turn on your damn collider, I wouldn't."

  Finch frowned. "Hmm," he said. "Now you're starting to sound just like my last chief physicist. I guess I'll let you guys sort it out. Of course, I should let you know that I only have room on my staff for one chief physicist. The only other position I have open is lion trainer."

  "You mean lion tamer."

  "No, I mean trainer. The lions haven't been getting enough exercise lately. You'd be helping train them. I hope you brought some better shoes. Anyway, I'm sure it won't come to that. Come with me; I'll introduce you to Alistair."

  "Alistair? You mean...?"

  "Of course," Finch said. "Alistair Breem, your mentor. My ex-chief physicist. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you."

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Izbazel and Gamaliel stood waiting for the elevator doors to open. When they did, the two cherubim would grab Mercury and the Attaché Case of Pestilence and bring them both to Uzziel, who was waiting for them. Izbazel and Gamaliel had a bit of a falling out when Izbazel found out Gamaliel had been secretly working for Tiamat, but Uzziel had assigned them to this task because of their shared hatred for Mercury.

  There was a sound like breaking glass somewhere up above. The two cherubim exchanged anxious glances.

  "Go!" snapped Izbazel. "Check it out."

  Gamaliel sprinted outside, catching sight of a figure against the darkening clouds, soaring away from a man-sized hole in a fifth floor window. The figure was carrying something square and gray, the size of a briefcase.

  "Izzy!" shouted Gamaliel. "Get out here! He's got the Case! He's getting away!"

  Gamaliel shot into the sky after Mercury, and Izbazel ran out into the courtyard of the WHO building. While Gamaliel pursued Mercury across the ominous sky, Izbazel remained on the ground and focused a stream of interplanar energy on Gamaliel. With the power of two angels propelling him, Gamaliel could travel twice as fast as Mercury, and soon the two were only a few feet apart.

  "You're dead, Mercury!" Gamaliel shouted, grabbing hold of Mercury's ankle. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

  Mercury spun in midair. "That's Achilles, dumbass," he replied, bringing the metal case down hard on Gamaliel's head.

  Gamaliel howled and released his grasp on Mercury. Lightning flashed not far away, followed shortly by a deafening clap of thunder, as Mercury darted away once again.

  Gamaliel chuckled to himself. "You never should have left Tiamat," he yelled after Mercury. "She's taught me all sorts of useful tricks."

  "Tell me all about it," Mercury called back, soaring away across the sky.

  "How about this one, for instance," shouted Gamaliel. "Mercury rises...and Mercury falls!" He clapped his hands and a white flash lit up the heavens.

  Christine, standing on the sidewalk not far from the WHO building, looked up in horror as a bolt of lightning traced a jagged path from the clouds to the earth---straight through the metal briefcase Mercury was holding. Mercury yelped in pain and then was silent, falling limply from the sky. He landed with a thud on the sidewalk a few hundred yards away. Pieces of the briefcase spiraled to the ground after him.

  Izbazel took off running toward Mercury's figure, and Gamaliel shot out of the sky, alighting next to him. They stood over Mercury's body. Wisps of smoke arose from his charred clothing.

  "Had to sacrifice the Case," Gamaliel said.

  "No matter," replied Izbazel. "The important thing is that we take Mercury out of play. Let's get him out of here while he's still unconscious. Uzziel will be thrilled, even without the Case."

  Gamaliel picked up the body, and the three angels disappeared into the clouds.

  Christine, clutching a silvery briefcase to her chest, turned and walked away.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Circa 1,800 B.C.

  Hammurabi ended up with 346 Rules, 218 Maxims, 412 Rules of Thumb, 86 Strong Suggestions, and 24 Helpful Hints. It took him three years. Mercury convinced him that he had maybe overdone it a bit this time around, and eventually they whittled Hammurabi's Code down to 281 laws.

  By the time they were done, the ziggurat was within weeks of completion.

  "This is it!" Tiamat exclaimed. "The culmination of hundreds of years of sacrifice."

  Mercury nodded. "A lot of men died building all those ziggurats."

  "What?" replied Tiamat. "Oh, yes. Shame about the deaths. Anyway, exciting, isn't it?"

  "I guess so," said Mercury. "It would be more exciting if I knew what the purpose of the ziggurats was."

  Tiamat chuckled. "Well, I suppose there's no harm in showing you," she said. "You're going to find out soon enough anyway."

  "Really?" asked Mercury excitedly.

  "Yep," said Tiamat. "Come with me."

  She led Mercury to the drawing room. She had her servants move the furniture to the edge of the room, revealing an ornate mosaic in the center of the room. "Leave us," she snapped at the servants.

  Mercury had seen the mosaic before and had noted its similarity to an interplanar portal, but had assumed that the resemblance was only for aesthetic effect.

  "Do you know what this is?" asked Tiamat.

  Mercury shrugged. "Looks like a portal, but obviously it won'
t work. The only place on this plane where the energy channels converge is at Megiddo. Building a portal here would be pointless. Besides, the pattern is all wrong. It doesn't point to anywhere in the Universe."

  "True enough," Tiamat. "It points to somewhere above the Universe."

  "What the hell does that mean?" Mercury asked. "There's nothing above the Universe. The Universe is all there is. That's why it's called the Universe."

  "I'm not going to bicker over semantics," said Tiamat. "The point is that the collection of planes we think of as the Universe isn't all there is. There's another level of reality, above or outside of all that. The spatial metaphor you use isn't important. The important thing is that it's real. Haven't you ever wondered where the Eternals live?"

  Mercury sighed. "The Eternals? Really?"

  "You still don't believe in the Eternals?"

  He shrugged. "To me they seem like an unnecessary complication of the Universe. When humans don't understand something, they blame the gods or the angels. When angels don't understand something, they blame the Eternals."

  "Mercury, you're an angel."

  "I'm aware of the irony," Mercury said. "My point stands. Who do you think the Eternals blame when something goes wrong? It's an endless ladder of scapegoating."

  Tiamat's eyes narrowed. "Mercury, don't take this the wrong way, but shut the hell up and listen to what I'm telling you. See these stones around the edge of the portal?"

  Mercury nodded.

  She went on, "You probably don't remember, but three hundred years ago, these stones were a murky greenish-gray. Almost black."