Boundary (Field Book 3)

by Simon Winstanley

  “You don’t have to do this,” said Anna, “Come with us, it isn’t too late. Fai could -”

  Lana was shaking her head.

  “My family is not down there anymore. They are here,” she thumped at her chest, “Earth is dark for me… but you have someone to search for, Anna. It is good, yes?”

  “Da,” Anna replied with one of the few Russian words she knew.

  Lana let out a short laugh.

  “You should laugh more,” Anna smiled.

  “Maybe,” Lana’s smile waned slightly, “Maybe I have been ‘Ledyanaya Lana’ too long.”

  Before Anna could ask what it meant, Lana spotted her frown.

  “Ask Mike and Cathy about it one day,” she nodded her permission, “but go now, so that you can have that day.”

  Anna wished she’d had longer to get to know her - not the subservient utility that had been under Dr. Chen’s control, but the person in front of her now who had gained her freedom in the last few hours.

  “There is never enough time,” Anna patted the Field generator one last time.

  “This is Fai,” the voice sounded through the nearby wall panel, “Dr. Bergstrom, the optimum departure window will become available in nineteen minutes, you must now board the Discovery.”

  “Understood, Fai,” Anna replied.

  “Discovery?” Lana’s eyebrow arched.

  “Mike’s idea,” Anna smiled, “He says it’s ‘appropriate’.”

  “Yes,” said Lana, then taking a deep breath she extended her hand, “Goodbye, Anna. Travel well.”

  Anna wished her the same and the two parted company. According to Fai, the trip back to Earth would be straightforward, but life following it would be much harder. Although everyone had exercised whilst aboard the ISS, the deleterious effects of zero gravity would still have a cost; but apparently Fai had a plan for that too.

  On her way past the cupola module she caught a fleeting glimpse of Module Beta through its window. Soon the hibernating crew would awake, but she knew one would not. As she arrived at the airlock, her thoughts returned yet again to Miles and she pulled his silver coin from her pocket.

  “Fai, I’m at the airlock now.”

  “Cycling airlock,” came her reply.

  Anna stared blankly at the coin in her palm.

  “E pluribus unum,” she read.

  “My apologies Dr. Bergstrom,” came Fai’s voice, “Please can you rephrase your statement?”

  “Out of many, one,” Anna replied, “I was just thinking of Miles.”

  Out of the many, he had been the one to save all of their futures.

  “I tried my best but I’m afraid his injuries were too severe. Do you find it a comfort that his last recorded words were ‘Assist Anna’?”

  Anna felt the breath stall in her chest, but she realised that Fai had no concept of grief.

  “Six Four,” she smiled and turned the silver coin over and over in her hand.

  “I don’t understand,” said Fai.

  “I know,” she felt the tears arrive, but in zero gravity they simply pooled where they’d formed. She allowed her eyes to fill, recalling that Miles had once done the same thing. Through blurred vision she saw the airlock door open, then Fai spoke again.

  “His body was too weak to make the journey to the surface, but even as we speak, I am still attempting to talk with him.”

  SIX.FOUR

  ini.t:0

  The quality of the environment, and slightly elastic feel to time, reminded him of a mental re-processing technique he had sometimes adopted during his former ego-morph duties. In that state, he could mentally revisit locations to piece together clues that his subconscious had absorbed but he hadn’t yet processed. It occurred to him that, for some reason beyond his control, he may be in this state now. If that was the case, then this aircraft cabin was a construct of his own making.

  Drifting weightlessly near his feet he could see the crossword. He could see that all the squares were filled. On closer examination, he saw it was filled with his own observations; all with the same ‘Six Four’ pattern. Some appeared to be directly related to the aircraft construct he was occupying, ‘Mirror Edge’, ‘Oxygen Mask’, ‘Assist Anna’, ‘Weight Zero’. A far greater number felt as though they belonged to a time outside of this moment, ‘Fallen Veil’, ‘Exordi Nova’, ‘Broken Ring’, ‘Silver Coin’, the list went on, ‘Zygote Bank’, ‘Module Beta’, ‘Valery Hill’, ‘Neural Band’.

  Some of the terms he recognised, but although the others had a feeling of familiarity he couldn’t reconcile them with what was happening at present.

  His attention focussed on one entry. He had obviously overwritten it several times before; by comparison these words appeared bold. He determined that it must have a larger significance beyond what he could see around him. He read the words aloud.

  “Doctor Chen,” his words seemed suddenly lost within the cabin.

  Immediately, from inside a recess in the cabin wall, a phone rang; its bell reverberating around the empty space.

  Miles was certain that he had no memory of this event, in fact he could not be sure that the plane even had a cabin-side phone.

  It rang again.

  He looked around the cabin. The cockpit door was closed, Anna was once again resting under her blanket, and he was standing on his feet.

  It rang a third time and Miles picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  There was a moment of quiet before the voice on the phone replied.

  “Hello Miles, we have spoken before, do you remember me?”

  The voice sounded both familiar yet new. It began to dawn on him that this was not the first time he had heard this exact phrase. He had the uneasy feeling that somehow he’d heard it tens, if not hundreds, of times before. The words normally came before a fall into darkness, so he gripped the top of a nearby seat in anticipation of what would come next.

  “I remember falling,” Miles said truthfully, “but I don’t remember you.”

  There was another pause.

  “That’s as it should be, Miles,” the voice reassured him.

  The tone of the voice went some way to assuaging his fears and it gave him the confidence to ask his most burning question.

  “Where did you take our plane?”

  There was the usual minor delay.

  “Ah - yes, the plane. I see,” the voice seemed slightly bemused, “Yes, it must look that way.”

  Although he was hearing the voice through the phone, Miles could not be sure of the actual mechanism by which they were really conversing, so he decided to test a theory.

  “Why aren’t you talking to me face to face?”

  There was a slightly longer silence; he wondered if his question had somehow overstepped the mark and if he would soon be falling into darkness again. But his uncertainty was somehow detected and the calm voice spoke again.

  “It’s OK Miles, please, relax. I really do want to talk with you in person. It’s just that I’ve been having trouble finding a stable…” the voice hesitated before selecting the right word, “… conduit, for a face to face meeting.”

  Miles now began to recall the countless people from his past that had visited him, the long succession of faces that had attempted to talk with him, his rejection of the conversations and of course the inevitable, repeated falls into darkness.

  “Hmm, perhaps this wasn’t the best place to meet after all,” the voice mused, “It may be more helpful if I changed the scenery. We’ll take it slowly, but does that option sound OK?”

  Miles looked at Anna resting in her seat; she seemed so peaceful but her bandaged hand provided a stark contrast.

  “Anna is quite safe,” reassured the voice.

  Miles nodded, “Should I sit or stand?”

  “Whatever makes you most comfortable. Now, only when you’re ready, close your eyes while you count to three.”

  Still standing, Miles looked around the cabin one last time, then closed
his eyes.

  “I promise you will not fall,” the voice said earnestly, “We’ll speak again.”

  Miles took a deep breath, “One… Two… Three…”

  He opened his eyes.

  The shiny floor tiles in the hallway of the Pittman Academy were without a scratch. Behind him the entrance doors were firmly bolted and the warm air was filled with the aroma of the school’s lunch preparations. Not that he ever needed the dining hall, Miles knew the smell was only there to provide an initial sense of comfort.

  Almost immediately, he recognised the artificiality; a moment ago he’d been aboard an aircraft.

  “It’s OK, Miles,” said the voice, “I said we’d speak again. How long has it been for you?”

  The question seemed trivial.

  “Three seconds?”

  “Very good. And what’s the last thing you remember before that?”

  “The crossword on Dr. Chen’s A320, an engine stall and a weightless free-fall that never happened.”

  There was a slight pause before the voice returned.

  “Yes, sorry about that, sometimes I didn’t get it quite right and you started reanalysing your own memories.”

  It was the first time the voice had drawn attention to the fact that this situation and others before it had been artificial. He now felt his attention drawn to asking a question that he’d posed before:

  “Why aren’t you talking to me face to face?”

  “I remember that question,” the voice returned, “When I used your memories of real people as a conduit for speech, you kept rejecting it. I thought it might be easier on you if we continued in voice only. Is that OK?”

  “OK,” Miles said aloud and heard the sound reverberate off the hard walls and tiled floor.

  “I’ve been trying to find a way to talk with you…” the voice began again, “but your mind is such an immense place that I kept losing you.”

  Miles looked down at the black and white crossword puzzle tiles under his feet, only one entry had been filled in; ‘Assist Anna’.

  “Then I discovered this place,” the voice continued, “A visual directory structure of your own memories. It’s how I was eventually able to find you.”

  Miles walked along the empty corridor, glancing through the glazed door panel of a classroom. Frozen in tableau, he could see his first day; Dorothy Pittman writing on a blackboard with soft chalk, his childhood friend Maxwell raising an enthusiastic hand.

  “All these rooms of yours, show such mental discipline.”

  Miles continued his walk along the corridors and stairways of his mind. He passed through a vast, grey, open-plan office containing hundreds of empty desks.

  “Do you know where you are going?”

  “I think I’m heading towards a set of current memories,” Miles replied, walking towards an elevator, “I think there’s something I was trying to solve.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  The elevator doors opened and Miles went inside.

  There were many small buttons labelled ‘ISS’ but only one of them was illuminated. He had the distinct feeling that he’d used these buttons several times before, but for some reason he was suffering a mental block on the exact details. He extended his hand towards the illuminated button but stopped when the voice spoke again.

  “You were able to catalogue all these experiences in such incredible detail, Miles. But that button will take us to a room that you were unable to catalogue.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it contains a traumatic event.”

  “Then if it isn’t one of my memories, how can I access it?”

  “Very astute, but adequate provision has been made.”

  He realised that the button before him must simply be a metaphor; something that would allow him to access details on the other side of his imposed mental boundary.

  “Before we go any further,” said Miles, “can you tell me how I should address you?”

  There was a long pause this time. Evidently his request was being given very thorough consideration. The voice now replied:

  “My name is Fai.”

  “Thank you, Fai,” he replied, “Why are we both here?”

  “You saved my life. It is my hope that you too can be saved.”

  Miles hovered his finger over the button.

  CONVERGENCE

  21st December 2112

  The Discovery continued to manoeuvre away from the ISS and its cloud of fabricators. Although Mike, Cathy and Anna were within an area designated as the cockpit, Fai had complete control of the piloting operations.

  “We’re clear of the central axis, Lana,” said Mike, “How’s the hibernation clock?”

  “Two hours thirty-one to go,” Lana replied, “I still have time.”

  “And how long until we lose comms with you?” said Cathy.

  “Forty seconds or so.”

  Although they had efficiently prepared for the physical departure, there had been little time to prepare mentally. They’d already said their goodbyes at the airlock, but there was something more significant about these final seconds; Mike knew that when the conversation ended, they may not speak again.

  The Discovery rolled into position, pointing towards the ISS cupola and Lana who was stationed inside.

  “I’ll miss the FLC poker,” said Lana, looking out towards them.

  “Only because you never lost,” Mike suddenly found himself grinning at the memory of all five FLC crew members in the cramped Drum, “How many times did I lose and have to do your Lima run?”

  “I stopped counting.”

  “There was just no reading you, Lana,” Cathy smiled, “You were one cool customer.”

  “Cool? I was the Ice Queen,” Lana used her own nickname and laughed.

  Mike exchanged glances with Cathy; it was still an unusual sound for them.

  “Laughter suits you,” said Anna from the seat behind him, “It’s good to hear.”

  They could all see Lana smiling, “Thank you, Anna.”

  There was a quiet beep from the navigation console in front of Mike.

  “It looks like we’re reaching the clearance distance, Lana.”

  “Confirmed Mike,” she appeared to be pointing toward the Earth, “Go get some fresh air.”

  At the FLC, it was a phrase she’d use when he was out replacing the CO2 scrubber cartridges at Lima station. Here, the same words had a new meaning. Using his old FLC counter-response to her phrase he replied:

  “Copy that, keep the lights on.”

  She didn’t respond.

  Framed in the window of the cupola, Lana Yakovna was frozen mid-wave. The Field had been reactivated aboard the ISS.

  Lana and the others aboard the ISS were now held within an invisible, epoch-skipping sphere. He wanted to call out and tell Fai to wait a little longer, but he knew it was pointless; in a very real sense, Lana already belonged to an inaccessible past.

  Fai’s voice, newly integrated with the Discovery, broke the silence.

  “Coordinates set. Navigation locked. Roll.”

  The Discovery rolled away from the view of the ISS and Mike saw the bright blue Earth slide into place.

  He looked down at the destination coordinates displayed on the screen.

  ‘65.05 16.75’

  The Jupiter message had contained the prefix ‘EVA’, something that appeared to have a different meaning for each of those who read it. He’d seen it as the necessity to conduct an EVA to the Earth’s surface at a particular set of coordinates.

  In the distance, looping behind the planet, a ring of scintillating lunar debris sparkled in the abundant sunlight. That such a destructive act could ever yield something of such beauty was incomprehensible.

  Maybe Cathy had been right. Perhaps there were more depths to the Jupiter message that they couldn’t quite see yet; they’d just have to see where this took them.

  He held out his hand towards Cathy and found that she was doing the same.


  “Earth injection sequence,” reported Fai, “Full thrust.”

  •

  Danny’s arm was beginning to ache. Even with the support of Kate’s crutch, his hand was starting to go numb as it held aloft the silver case that he’d stolen from Alfred Barnes during the infirmary scuffle.

  On the basis that he was wearing a jumpsuit that was empty when they’d placed him in it, they hadn’t searched him again. He found it deeply ironic that Alfred’s own Civil Protection Officers had escorted him and the metathene case out of the Node.

  Suddenly the light from the Node changed.

  The observation window had become completely opaque and was casting a cold, ethereal glow on the surroundings.

  “What happened?” he heard a voice call out.

  “They pulled the curtains…” someone else replied, walking towards the fire.

  “Come on,” said Caroline, helping him lower his stiff arm from the crutch, “Not much point in us making a statement like that, then dying of acute hypoth-, extreme cold.”

  He remembered the walk back to the fire, the interior of a tent, but not the moment that sheer exhaustion had simply turned off his consciousness.

  The quality of the light diffusing through the tent’s thin material now, told him that the night had already passed. With an efficiency that rivalled the Node, sleep had transported him forwards several hours in a black, dreamless instant.

  He unzipped the tent and stood awkwardly in the pale wash of morning. It seemed strange to be seeing a sky where the clouds didn’t continually condense and evaporate. He hadn’t noticed it the previous night but in the current calm, he heard the faint sound of rippling water from the surrounding moat.

  He walked past their newly re-dedicated ‘ARK IV’ stone and arrived at the remains of the old bridge. Far below, the cold waters lapped almost lazily at the island. The supply crates had not included anything as useful as an inflatable dinghy with which to cross the body of water, so their work efforts yesterday had concentrated on beginning a replacement bridge. With only a few hours of daylight though, progress had been slow. He tugged at the new ropes that were attached to the rusty ironwork and hoped that the metal would hold when they eventually came to use it.