by C. J. Waller
Why the hell did I ever want to do this? We pass the room with the big windows, where we found Clark’s body. Swimming back and forth are shoals of small fish, no larger than my palm. When they change position, they flicker silver, quite beautiful. I know then that if we had a way of getting back, I’d find this place as fascinating as Brendan. It is wondrous, but wonder is pointless when you can’t get home. Wonder means nothing if it ultimately kills you.
We head down to the room with the chair.
Before we enter, we all agree – even Brendan – that no one is to touch it. Curiosity isn’t going to kill these cats. No, that’s the job of starvation and insanity- nope, shut up, brain. Not going there, remember? Time to try to find a way out of this situation. Hopefully. Hope. Abandon hope, all ye who –
I blink rapidly and grit my teeth. I have seriously got to get hold of myself.
Without the distraction of Yuri, it doesn’t take us too long to discover something that resembles a kind of sash-like door. It is smooth and looks moulded into the wall, like a well-made blast door in an explosives lab. I have to hold in a laugh, because it’s so science-fictiony, it’s almost a cliché. There doesn’t seem to be any particular way of opening it. Brendan gives us all a look I can only describe as apologetic, asks us to stand back and then starts slapping the doorframe and sections of the wall around it. When he hits a panel to the left, about a foot above his head, it blinks a dull red, and the door grates upwards. It stops halfway, clunking and sputtering.
“I’m not going under that,” I say. “No way.”
“There’s nowhere else to go,” Brendan says, ducking under.
Idiot.
“Brendan, what if it closes and we can’t get out?”
“So what if it does? You want to go sit on the island and do the prehistoric equivalent of whale watching, then fine, you do that. Me? I’m going to explore and hopefully find a way home.”. That’s odd. I didn’t expect that from him. Maybe his developing insanity isn’t insanity at all, but rather optimism. Then again, plenty of people might equate the two. They do rather present themselves in similar ways.
Marcus ducks under the door following Brendan. He’s not optimistic, that’s for sure. Janos, however, hangs back with me. He runs a hand over his beard and frowns.
“We should find a way of propping it open. Just in case,” he says. “Megan is right.”
Megan is right! If my heart could sing, it would have – but instead, it only manages a little whistle. Megan is right. At last, someone is listening to me. I offer him a nod of thanks, but he doesn’t return it. My heart shuts up and slinks back into the little pit of despair this place has created especially for it.
Brendan bends down so he can peer under the door at us.
“Find something, then. Oh, that’s right… there isn’t anything, is there? Or nothing you dare to touch, anyway.” He disappears again. I hear a thumping sound, and the little panel glows red again. The door descends, jumping and jerking, until it is flush with the floor again.
“Brendan!” I snap, like a mother chastising a toddler who has just climbed a little too highly up the stairs. “Brendan! Open it!”
Before either Janos or I can slap the panel on our side, it again goes red, and the door chunters open. Again, Brendan bends down. He’s grinning.
Bastard.
“Happy?”
No, I seethe inwardly. Not happy at all. But he’s made his point, so Janos and I duck under the door and further into the complex.
Chapter Nine
“I think it was some kind of research station,” Brendan says. We’ve been walking for a good few minutes now, down a corridor flanked by small rooms that contain nothing more than what looks like an elaborate chair. “This must be their rest area. I think these are their equivalent of bunks.”
The ease in which he is hypothesising madness is really beginning to grate again, but none of us can dispute any of it, because none of us can come up with any better suggestions. When it comes down to it, this place is around one hundred and sixty million years old – no matter what is suggested, it’s going to be madness, because whatever it is, it shouldn’t exist. End of discussion.
“So, what were they researching?” I ask, or rather, snap.
“I dunno. Life? The Universe? Everything?” Brendan grins and I have to step back, away from him and the growing temptation to slap that stupid smile off his face.
Marcus, as silent as ever, is behind me. His face looks waxy, like a mask.
“You okay?” I offer him a nervous smile.
Nothing.
“Marcus…”
Nothing.
I sigh.
“We’ll find a way.”
I don’t know why I said that, because I don’t really believe it, but it gets a reaction at least. Marcus lifts his head, and I’m sure I see a ghost of a smile touch his lips. I don’t know if that’s because he believes me or pities me. I've decided I’m going to choose the former.
“Where’s Janos?” Brendan asks.
That’s a good question. I thought he was behind us, but he’s not.
I pause before calling him. For some, stupid reason it feels almost sacrilegious to break the silence down here. The way the walls absorb the sound, deadening my voice, I think this place agrees with me.
Still no sign of Janos.
“Where the hell is he?” I ask. Brendan shrugs, and Marcus offers me a blank-faced stare. Little tendrils of doubt give my heart a warning squeeze.
First Nik, then Fi. Now Janos, too?
“Janos!” I call out again, fighting to keep the squeak out of my voice.
“He was behind us.”
At last, Marcus speaks, but his voice sounds flat, like he’s commenting on the weather, or the state of linoleum flooring. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone so totally broken so quickly. I can’t help but wonder how long it would take for that to happen to me… and if it’s already starting. Bits of me that I once thought were solid are definitely fraying around the edges. How long before I unravel completely.
I nod quickly, and we begin to trace our steps, back down the corridor, peeking in each of the little rooms. I try to suppress the vision of Janos – good, dependable Janos – sitting rigid in one of those chairs, his face a rictus of terror, like Yuri’s was when we found him.
Instead, we find him muttering to himself in a corner.
“Janos!” I don’t even try to keep the relief out of my voice. “What are you doing? Why didn’t you answer us?”
He spins around, and for a split second, looks… guilty? Seriously, that’s the only way I can describe it. He clears his throat and offers us a grin.
“Just checking these nooks out,” he says.
“Talking to yourself again, were you?” Marcus says, before I can answer. The two of them share a black stare, leaving me to wonder what had just happened.
“Yeah,” Janos says. “It helps.”
“First sign of madness, you know,” Marcus says.
“I know, but it helps me retain information.”
They continue to stare at one another, and I get the feeling that, should I step between them, I’d be vaporised.
“Okay… guys… At least we know everyone is okay,” says Brendan. “Let’s just keep going – and stick together, okay? No one needs to Scooby-Doo off. If you see something interesting, then just say so.”
I’m impressed. That has to be the most coherent thing Brendan has said all day. Janos, however, doesn’t seem to agree. At least, his body language doesn’t. He stiffens, but then smiles, “All right. It makes sense.”
And that’s that.
I think.
I hope.
The corridor continues for quite a while, its walls a uniform grey in colour. Every few feet there's an archway, which leads into a small room with one of those chair-like constructions in the centre of it. Despite being empty for an unfathomably long time, no dust adorns the cold surfaces. In fact, there's nothing else exc
ept the chair. Nothing I could consider ‘personal’ can be found in any of the rooms. Maybe aliens don’t have families. Or maybe they never got round to inventing photography. Or maybe I need to shut up now, because I’m beginning to sound like Brendan, and I don’t want to sound like Brendan.
Finally, we are faced with another one of those blast doors. This one is open and the room beyond yawns wide, a great black hole where no light penetrates. Brendan fiddles with the wall, obviously looking for some kind of light switch, but comes up empty. At least he has the courtesy to look sheepish.
“Well, it was worth a try,” he says.
As one, we step into the room beyond.
I can tell it’s big. I can feel the space around me. The thin beams of our headlamps hardly penetrate the blackness, illuminating disjointed sections of huge structures that give away nothing and only add fuel to our already exhausted imaginations.
“What are they?” I breathe.
“I don’t know,” Janos replies.
No one else speaks, and silence reigns. The floor slopes down a little as we creep closer. Our headlamps pick out a curve here, a panel there. What looks like a girder spans the room just above head height. I make to duck under it, but I am stopped by an almost invisible wall made out of the same glass-like material, as the viewing window in the room above us. I peer through it and spy delicately fluted tubes that feed into it, snaking their way across the ceiling until they disappear into the darkness. The whole construction extends from floor to ceiling. I can only begin to imagine its purpose
“What would they want to keep in there?” Janos asks, and taps on the side.
“Dunno. Biological specimens?” Brendan sweeps his headlamp along its full length. “It’s massive. Easily big enough for… you know.”
Yeah, I know. I find myself nodding unconsciously, agreeing with Brendan.
“But why? Why would they want it in here?” I ask
“To study it?” Brendan offers.
“To study it…” I stroke my lips with one finger. Interesting. I wonder…
“What are you thinking, Meg?” Janos asks me. He’s looking at me intently, which makes me feel like my clothes are about two sizes too small – no mean feat, since the suit is made to measure.
“I’m just wondering. If they did use this tank for biological study, how did they get it in here? There must be a way.”
“You think we might be able to trap it in here?” Marcus asks, sounding a little more like his usual self.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But it’s worth bearing in mind. If they did it, then there has to be a way…” I step closer to the slightly curved sides of the tank and peer in. I frown. That’s odd. It isn’t as easy to see into the depths of the tank as I thought it might be. There’s some kind of strange distortion effect, like I’m trying to look through a layer of Vaseline.
Something akin to a ripple courses through the tank. My heart jolts, forcing me to take in a sharp breath, and I take a step back.
“What is it?” Janos asks.
I don’t answer him, not immediately, because I’m not sure I believe what I saw. I run my hand over my face and try to ignore the way it trembles before gravitating back towards the glassy surface again.
“Megan?” I don't know who's questioning me, and I don't really care. The tank is again still, but I can't shake the feeling that all is not as it seems.
“What's wrong? There’s nothing in there.”
Whoever it is, they're wrong. I know they are. My physical senses might be telling me it is empty, but on a deep, instinctual level, I know the tank is anything but empty.
I can feel it.
Reality ripples again, and at the centre of the tank, a few bubbles form. That’s the only way I can describe it – bubbles, suspended in the air. I sense someone standing next to me. They gasp.
“Did you see?”
I nod.
“What is it?”
I shake my head.
Brendan kneels beside me and peers closer. Whatever it is inside the tank ripples again.
“It’s completely transparent,” he whispers. “Like silica gel, only… purer.” He lets out a low whistle. “What is it?”
Now Janos and Marcus join us. Both of them look pretty sceptical, like Brendan and I are sharing the same hallucination – and you know what? I might have believed we were, until they both gasp and confirm that they too can see the bubbles and the ripples.
“Wow,” Marcus says.
We lapse back into silence, mesmerised. The bubbles multiply, catching the light from our headlamps, forming tiny rainbows within their hearts. I smile with wonderment, like a child. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite so beautiful in all my life. I tilt my head to one side as the bubbles begin to move around each other, through each other, melding and splitting like cells, forming new and ever more intricate patterns. They drift towards me, getting smaller and smaller until they smooth out, and I find myself looking at myself; my face, perfectly imitated.
I laugh.
The others crowd round me, but I’m not listening to their chatter. My liquid doppelgänger laughs with me, soundless, mimicking my every move. Entranced, I raise a hand to touch the glass. There is a note of alarm from behind me, but I’m not going to stop, not now. Whatever it is in the tank, it wants to communicate, that much is clear.
I touch the surface, and the transparent creature behind the glass forms a perfect replica of my hand in bubbles and rainbows. I pull it away and wave. It waves back. I know it’s only copying, but I can’t help but feel there is something more profound going on – after all, babies learn by copying.
“It’s… you,” Brendan murmurs. He leans over me, eager to create his own gel-replica. The creature in the tank does not disappoint. Within seconds, he too is staring at his own transparent doppelgänger, complete with awed expression.
“What is this stuff?” Marcus asks. “We shouldn't be fucking with this... I've got a bad feeling about it.” I am momentarily shocked – and yes, annoyed – to hear such blasphemy. This ‘stuff’ is miraculous. Why must he be such an ass about everything?
I trace my finger in circles, and my mirror image traces them back. It is looking more and more like me, right down to the odd smattering of freckles that dusts my nose, each one picked out in tiny bubbles. The longer I watch, the more solid the image gets.
There is no other way to describe it. It’s amazing.
“It’s… it’s like the perfect way to replicate things,” Brendan says. He sounds awed. I know how he feels. “Why bother with cloning, when you could just get this stuff to copy it?”
That makes us all stop and think. It’s all well and fine thinking of this stuff as a novelty, but Brendan is right – it must have a purpose. I think of the underground sea, so far from light, but so full of life.
“God jelly,” I accidentally mutter out loud.
“God jelly?” Janos says. “What makes you say that?”
Just my luck. He had to pick up on that, didn’t he?
“I was just thinking out loud. It's... it's nonsense.”
“No... continue.” I can see his reflection in the glass. He is looking intently at me, as if he can will me to speak. A small crease furrows my brow, and instantly, my doppelgänger copies me.
“We’ve been puzzling over the purpose of this place, who built it and all of that,” I begin, slowly. “And then there’s the lake. This far down, you’d think it would be dead – but it’s not. It’s teeming with life. Maybe…” I pause, aware of how ridiculous my suggestion might sound.
“Maybe?”
“Well, maybe this stuff has something to do with it? I know it’s a lot to digest, and goes against everything I was ever taught about evolution and life on Earth. But what if – just what if – this is the answer to it all? What if they were creating life down here?”
No one says anything for a long while, leaving me wishing I had never opened my big mouth in the first place.
/> “So…” Marcus speaks first. He’s looking pensive yet doubtful. “What you’re saying is… this could be, like, God’s laboratory?”
I shrug. Good old shrug. “Why not?”
“Because it’s insanity, Meg. This isn’t how life is created. You’re a scientist – you know this!”
“I know… I know… and believe me, it sounds insane to me, too – but what other explanation is there?”
“Conquest.” Janos says the word quietly, but it’s like a drip of icy water down my back.
“Conquest? What do you mean?” I ask.
“I mean, they imitate us, they can take over.”
“But humans weren’t around one hundred and sixty million years ago.”
It's his time to shrug. “Does it matter? We’re here now.”
That’s an unpleasant thought.
“So… what? They pulled out a crystal ball and anticipated our evolution? Don’t be stupid.”
“I’m not being stupid. Think about it. Think about what Yuri said. ‘I’ve seen everything; the past, the present, the future, all as one’. He said the beings who created this place live on the Outside – in the spaces between spaces. Our laws of physics, our dimensions, and yes, I am including time here, do not apply to them.”
“But why us? Why humankind?” Marcus asks. “That’s very humanocentric of you. Man always assumes, no matter what happens, that they are the ultimate goal. What if it isn’t meant for us? What if… what if… they were hiding, or needed to… needed to… oh, I don’t know, maybe this is all intended for whatever comes after us? Or maybe something is going on out there that we don’t know anything about, and our discovering it is pure chance. Maybe we're insignificant, a fly in the cosmic ointment. That still doesn’t answer what this stuff is, nor does it help us get off this fucking island, which is what we should be focusing on, not-”
“Uh, guys…”
Brendan interrupts us, sounding decidedly uneasy. I tear my attention away from my replica to find he has stood up. His mimic now has a body – and it isn’t copying him. It’s stretching up, reaching up towards the pipes. Two beams of light flash upwards. The top of the tank is a good ten or so feet up, way above our heads. I stand up, and my double does the same. It has a body now, just like Brendan’s, and it too, is stretching up, becoming longer, more solid, more misshapen with each second.
