"Hey," objected Mercury. "This is no picnic for me either. My agent told me I was going to be rooming with Natalie Imbruglia and the guy who played Skippy on Family Ties."
Jacob shook his head. "I don't know which one of you sounds more nuts."
Mercury rubbed his chin, pointing his finger surreptitiously at Allie.
"It isn't as crazy as it sounds," said Allie. "If the theory is correct, then chrotons are all around us, all the time. But you can't just reach out and grab a chroton, because most of these chrotons are what you could call 'virtual' chrotons. They are, from our point of view, static and therefore invisible. We can't detect these 'virtual' chrotons, but we can detect 'free' chrotons. Now it's difficult to define the exact difference between virtual and free chrotons, but the situation is analogous to that of photons: although photons make up electromagnetic fields, you aren't going to see any light from a static electromagnetic field. You can, however, see disturbances of electromagnetic fields."
Mercury's eyes had glazed over completely, and even Jacob was having a hard time keeping up.
"Think of it this way," Allie continued. "You have a pond. The surface of the pond is completely dark except for where ripples on the pond's surface reflect light. The 'free' gravitons are like the ripples and the 'virtual' gravitons are like the invisible surface of the lake. The water is there either way, but it's completely undetectable except for the ripples. From our standpoint as observers of ripples on the pond, the water's existence is completely theoretical, except for the ripples, of which we have some experience---limited and indirect as it is.
"What they are trying to do at the LHC is to throw pebbles in the pond in order to observe the ripples, in an attempt to figure out the nature of the water in the pond. Finch, on the other hand, basically wants to submerge an empty glass in the water, with the opening of the glass level with the surface. He's going to throw rocks in the water in the hopes of splashing some of it into the glass."
"And then what?" asked Jacob.
"Well," said Allie, shrugging apologetically, "that's where the analogy breaks down a bit. You obviously can't literally remove a glass of Universe-stuff from the Universe and hold it in your hand. But clearly this is dangerous stuff. If you could channel a significant number of chrotons, you could conceivably warp space-time itself. It would take an awful lot of them, but once you've got control over time, lots of seemingly impossible things become possible. For example, what if the chrotons warp space-time enough to send the collider a nanosecond back in time, to just before the chrotons were captured? During the next nanosecond, the same chrotons would be captured again, from a previous state in their existence. Then it goes back another nanosecond and catches them again, and again and again. This would become a self-replicating process---call it a space-time virus if you like."
"So time would be frozen in this area?" Jacob asked.
"That's one possibility," replied Allie. "But that would only happen if there were exact parity between the amount of time needed to cause the reaction and the amount of time the collider was sent back each time the reaction occurred. More likely, the effect would be more subtle, such as the reaction occurring a millionth of a second before it should. In other words, the effect would slightly precede the cause."
"That's impossible," said Jacob.
"Not necessarily," said Allie. "Although it's hard to fathom, certainly. Another possibility is that the affected area would be sent infinitely far back in time, essentially blinking out of existence. And when I say 'the affected area,' understand that I'm being deliberately vague. I don't know the spatial range of the phenomena any more than I know the temporal range. In other words, maybe Finch's experiment will just send a few chrotons back in time. On the other hand, maybe the whole Universe will blink out of existence. It's hard to say. The point is that while I don't condone Finch's methods, the basic concepts are sound. There's no solid evidence to indicate he's right about any of this stuff, but there's no evidence to indicate he's wrong either."
Jacob shook his head. "Allie, come on. You know full well that isn't how science works. We don't accept every crackpot theory that comes along until it's disproven. Every hypothesis is tested based on how well it explains known phenomena, and by that standard the Jell-O universe theory is a resounding failure."
"Don't lecture me about the scientific method, Jacob," Allie snapped. "This isn't an abstract scientific problem we're discussing over bad coffee in the faculty lounge. If this machine works, it could literally destroy the Universe. Not just destroy it, annihilate it. It could destroy time itself, erasing everything that ever existed or ever will exist. I will grant you that the odds of it working are slim. But what if there's a one percent chance it works? We simply don't know what will happen if Finch succeeds in capturing a chroton."
"I know for certain that we're going to get fed to the lions if we don't get it working," said Jacob. "And since I don't have a clue how to do that, I guess our lives are in your hands."
"I'm sorry, Jacob," said Allie. "I can't risk it. I thought I could work out the unknowns well enough to make the activation of the CCD safe, but I just haven't had time. It will take years to do the necessary background work, but Finch insists on conducting the experiment as soon as possible. I just don't know what's going to happen, and I'm not willing to risk the existence of the Universe to save my own skin."
"So you worked on this thing for seven years and now you've decided, at the last minute, to develop some scruples?" Jacob asked.
"It's not that simple," said Allie. "Like you, I initially thought this whole thing was a joke. It was an interesting theoretical exercise, but I never actually expected it to work. And even now, I'm not exactly sure how he expects to capture the chrotons. That is, the device is constructed to channel them into a receiving chamber, but without something in that chamber capable of absorbing and holding onto the chrotons, they'll just disappear."
"Like a chroton battery!" interjected Mercury.
"Yes, more or less," said Finch. "I assume that Finch had someone else working on the battery, but frankly I don't know of anyone capable of building such a thing. I've done a few preliminary calculations, and the mechanics are so unworkable as to make it a near impossibility."
"Hang on," said Jacob. "You're refusing to activate the CCD because of a theoretical danger of what could happen in the off-chance the device might actually work, if Finch has been able to construct a receptacle that would be beyond the understanding of any physicist on Earth?"
"Well," said Allie. "Yes. But understand that it would have been pointless for Finch to build the CCD if it didn't exist."
"In other words," said Jacob, "you've bought into Finch's pseudoscientific nonsense. You've been drinking the Kool-Aid."
"Ooh!" Mercury exclaimed. "This is just like that movie, with Obi-Wan Kenobi."
"Star Wars?" Jacob asked, puzzled.
"No, before that."
"There was no movie with Obi-Wan Kenobi before Star Wars."
"You know," said Mercury. "Where Obi-Wan's troops were captured by the Japanese and they had to build that bridge over the River Kwai. What was that called?"
"The Bridge over the River Kwai?" offered Jacob.
"Wow, you're like a Jedi," said Mercury. "Creepy. Yeah, it's like The Bridge over the River Kwai, where the Japanese make Obi-Wan Kenobi's men build a bridge, and they get so involved in building the bridge that they are disappointed when the Rebel Alliance has to blow it up in the end."
Jacob shook his head. "He's got the details a bit muddled," said Jacob, "but he has a point, Allie. You've been working on this thing for seven years; some part of you has to be hoping that it hasn't all been for nothing. Some part of you hopes that Finch really is onto something, and that the CCD will actually work. But I'm telling you, Allie, as an objective observer, that it's nonsense. There's no chroton battery. There probably aren't even any chrotons. There's no such thing as meta-energy and there's no Jell-O universe. It's all a bunch o
f bunk. Turn on the man's infernal machine and then maybe he'll let us go home."
"You know he's not going to let us go," said Allie.
"Maybe not," replied Jacob. "But we're definitely going to die if we say no. You can at least buy us some time. Get the machine working, and maybe we can escape while he's preoccupied with his experiment. Between the three of us, we ought to be able to come up with something."
"Don't look at me," said Mercury. "They've got a Balderhaz cube here somewhere, so I can't perform any miracles. Besides, I never even knew you could put croutons in Jell-O."
"We'll figure something out," said Jacob. "Trust me."
Allie sighed heavily. "All right," he said.
"Sweet!" exclaimed Mercury. "This is just like Star Wars, where Obi-Wan deactivates the tractor beam! Except that instead, he's going to activate it and maybe kill us!"
THIRTY-NINE
Circa 1,700 B.C.
"No!" Tiamat howled. "They can't do this!"
She had just received an official communiqué from the Seraphic Civilization Shepherding Program overseers informing her that she was being put on probation. She would be allowed to remain in Babylon, but only as an observer. Another seraph would be selected to take her place in the program.
"I've been following all the rules!" she shrieked. "Mostly!"
Mercury cleared his throat. "Maybe they figured out what you're up to," he said, nervously.
"Impossible!" she exclaimed. "Only a handful of seraphim know about the metaverse. There were a few of us who figured it out a couple thousand years ago. Me, Osiris, Quetzalcoatl, and a few others. That's why we've all been working on pyramids. None of us has any reason to tell those paper-pushers in the SCSP."
"What if Osiris or somebody realized you were going to win the pyramid race and decided to fess up rather than let you become Queen of the Universe?"
"You think Osiris would do that?" Tiamat asked. "I always thought he was kind of a sap. Smart guy and all, but not the scheming type."
"You just never know," said Mercury, relieved that Tiamat seemed to be giving the notion some credence. In truth, Mercury didn't think that Osiris would have flipped on her. He was an honorable guy. Not like me, he thought.
The fact was that Mercury had spilled his guts to Uzziel about Tiamat's plans for Universal domination. He felt bad about it, but what could he do? Tiamat was fun to hang out with, but she wasn't the sort you'd want ruling the Universe. Besides, keeping tabs on Tiamat was his job. If he didn't mention the fact that, oh, by the way, she's a few weeks away from becoming Unquestioned Despot of the Universe, he could reasonably be accused of insufficient oversight.
"All I can say is, good luck trying to find someone to replace me!" Tiamat growled. "They're already scraping the bottom of the barrel with this program. I mean, they picked that moron Dagda to run Britain, for crying out loud. At the rate he's going, those people are going to be in the Stone Age forever."
The door to the drawing room opened, and a lanky, good-looking man swaggered into the room. "Hey, babe," he said. "They told me you were in here."
Tiamat's jaw dropped. It was Marduk.
"What have I told you about calling me that?" Mercury replied.
Marduk chuckled politely. "Hey, Mercury. What's up?"
Mercury shrugged. "The usual. Labor disputes, unreliable subcontractors, residents complaining about the chisels going day and night; you know how it is."
Marduk nodded. "Well, things are going to change around here. There's a new sheriff in town."
"You?" Tiamat hissed. "They're putting you in charge of Babylon?"
"Yes indeed," said Marduk jubilantly. "Don't worry, I plan on keeping you and Mercury on as consultants."
"Super," said Mercury flatly.
Tiamat sank into her chair, holding her head in her hands. "No," she moaned. "No, no, no."
"Come on," chided Marduk. "It's not that bad. I don't plan on changing much right off the bat. This Hammurabi seems to be working out all right, and we might as well finish off this last ziggurat..."
"Really?" Tiamat asked hopefully. "You're going to let the construction of the ziggurat go on as planned?"
"Well," said Marduk. "Not exactly as planned. I have some ideas for making the process more efficient."
Mercury frowned. "More efficient?" he asked doubtfully, forgetting for a moment that the completion of the ziggurat would lead to Tiamat's dominion over the Universe. "The ziggurat is ninety percent done. Wouldn't any changes at this point be, you know, disruptive? Why not stick with what works?"
"Trust me," said Marduk. "We'll finish it twice as fast this way. Check it out." He unrolled a scroll filled with diagrams and notations. "See this here on the left? This is the standard Babylonian system of weights and measures. Six she to one shu-si. Thirty shu-si to one kush. Twelve kush to one nindan. Sixty nindan to one ush."
"Yes, yes," said Tiamat impatiently. "Every child over six knows this. What's your point?"
"The point is," Marduk said, "that it's all rather arbitrary. Why switch from six units to thirty units to twelve units to sixty units? Where's the logic in that?"
"They're all multiples of six," Mercury said. "Makes the math easy, since Babylon uses a six-based number system."
"Sure," said Marduk. "But imagine how much easier it would be if we used a ten-based system."
Tiamat and Mercury sat in befuddled silence.
"Did I just blow your minds?" Marduk asked. "Take a look at this: Ten grabok-Marduks in a brobnig-Marduk. Ten brobnig-Marduks in a sha-nafurtsen-Marduk. And ten sha-nafurtsen Marduks in a gamnashtannfurtsenammilok-Marduk. See how simple that is? I call it the Marduk System."
"Wow," said Mercury. "That is quite possibly the worst idea I've ever heard in my life."
Tiamat groaned and cradled her head in her hands. "Where do you come up with this idiocy?" she asked.
"I wish I could take all the credit," said Marduk, "but let's just say I had a little inspiration from above." He winked meaningfully at Tiamat. "All right, Mercury," he exclaimed. "Let's head out to the ziggurat and tell the men the good news!"
The men, it turned out, were delighted to hear about the new measurement system. Marduk interpreted their response as enthusiasm about being able to finish the ziggurat more quickly, but Mercury knew better. The workers were looking for any excuse not to finish the ziggurat, and Marduk had handed them a solid gold excuse on a silver platter. None of them recognized the mysterious stranger, of course, having been born long after Marduk's disappearance, but rumors spread quickly that this was indeed their long-awaited savior. And if their savior expected them to fuck up the ziggurat, who were they to question him?
Mercury returned to find Tiamat in tears. "Centuries of work down the drain," she moaned. "The final ziggurat will never be completed. I'm telling you, Mercury, the deck was stacked against me. First the labor disputes and the invasions, and then the flood, and now this!" She shook her fist at the sky. "Someone up there has it in for me!"
A sickening feeling came over Mercury. What had Marduk said? That his system had been an "inspiration from above?" Tiamat tended to be paranoid, but that didn't mean she was wrong. Maybe someone up there was screwing up her attempts to open a portal to the metaverse. He pulled Michael's card from his pocket. He shuddered as he reread the message.
The rain comes from above.
Was that what Michael had meant? Had the Eternals sent the rain to disrupt Tiamat's ziggurat-building? Having failed to stop her, had they then manipulated Marduk into promulgating his idiotic System? His mind reeled with the possibilities. How many other little ways might the Eternals have subtly discouraged the completion of the ziggurats? Spreading dissention among the builders? Provoking neighboring provinces into attacking Babylon?
His thoughts were interrupted by a loud banging on the door to the drawing room.
"Enter!" shouted Tiamat angrily.
A servant opened the door. "Ma'am," he said with a bow. "My apologies, but I have som
e urgent news."
"Out with it, then," said Tiamat.
"Ma'am," said the servant. "The Elamites have attacked southern Babylon. It sounds like we're going to need all the workers from the ziggurat to help hold them off."
Tiamat sighed heavily, letting her head drop to her hands once again. Her shoulders began to shake, and Mercury at first thought she was sobbing. But when she looked up, he saw that she was laughing. "Tell Marduk," she said. "It's his problem now. I quit."
"You can't just quit!" Mercury exclaimed in disbelief.
"I can quit ziggurats anytime I want," declared Tiamat, and stalked out of the room.
Around the corner, a mysterious figure quietly slinked away, smiling to himself. Tiamat might have given up on unlocking the mysteries of the Universe, but others within Babylon had been watching her efforts with great interest, and they weren't about to concede failure simply because Tiamat had fallen out of favor. It was bound to happen, the way she conspicuously flouted the will of Heaven. What was required here was a subtler touch. It might take hundreds or even thousands of years, the man knew, but eventually the Order of the Pillars of Babylon would succeed where even the gods themselves had failed.
FORTY
Mercury, Jacob, and Finch sat in the CCD control room, watching Alistair Breem type some final instructions into the CCD computer. Armed men stood guarding the exits. Allie pressed the Enter key, slid his chair away from the console, and held up his hands in a gesture of either resignation or supplication.
"It is finished," he said.
A monitor at the front of the room now displayed the message:
CAUTION: CCD ONLINE
Finch leaped from his chair. "At last!" he chirped. "Now I, Horace Finch, shall tear the veil behind which lies the most closely guarded secrets of the Universe!"
Mercury Rises Page 24
