Cay’s voice was hoarse from lack of conversation. “Who are you?” he croaked.
Her crisp, businesslike voice was impossible to read. “My name is Helena Baldstone. I believe that you may be the answer to a problem I have.”
Cay glanced left and right before he popped a single eyebrow. “You may have noticed that I’m kind of limited in here, right?”
When she spoke, she reminded him of school administrators. “Yes, yes I have.” She tapped the transparent pane in his cell door. “Would you like to get out of here before you finish your sentence?”
Cay’s thoughts leaped at the idea, his eyes traveling the confines of his small cell, a journey they had made a thousand times a day. He did his best to keep the enthusiasm from his voice. “Who are you?” he asked.
“I’m from FAME, and I am authorized to commandeer your services.”
“Can you get my records expunged?” Cay replied.
Baldstone shook her head. “What good would that do?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are the only Keystone to have been imprisoned. Do you think that getting your records wiped clean would hide who you are or what you’ve done?”
This was a reality that Cay usually refused to contemplate. He would never be able to escape his past. “What do you want from me?” he asked in a smaller voice.
“I want you to unlock something for me.”
Cay’s heart bounced around in his chest like a ball thrown hard against a wall. “Oh, I could do that,” he scratched behind his ear, “but it would be a violation of the terms of my sentence.”
“Those are not immutable.”
A spark of hope lit in Cay’s soul, and for a moment he didn’t trust himself to speak. “They’re not?”
“Not right now, and not if you succeed.”
Cay tilted his head and looked at her. “Not right now?”
She held an Uplink up to the glass. “I have a test for you.”
Cay licked his lips. An Uplink! Not having access to one had been like missing a limb. Baldstone was only in the periphery of his vision as he looked at the device. It was a small tablet model, similar to others that he’d used. Not powerful, but functional. He was certain that it had been released since he’d been jailed. He also knew that it was more than he needed for whatever test she had in mind. “What do you want me to do?” he inquired.
“This Uplink is password-protected. There are two accounts in my name at two different banks on Callisto. One has no funds; the other has ten thousand dollars in it. I want you to transfer the money from one account to the other without tripping any alarms.” She cleared her throat and nodded at him. “You are to do this through that door without touching the Uplink.” She pulled up a timer on the Uplink’s screen. “You have less than a minute.” Her finger pressed the screen.
Cay didn’t know how to explain his power. He simply reached toward things with his mind, and they did his bidding. Not having been able to practice in a year, he worried for the briefest of moments that he was out of practice. As his mind concentrated on the Uplink, the familiar touch of quantum-photonic circuits banished all such concerns.
The encryptions meant to keep him out were weak things, somewhat like an army of newborn puppies assigned to stop a tiger. It felt so good to interface again. Cay’s desire to impress competed with his desire to continue interfacing, but the former prevailed.
When Baldstone’s finger hit the timer, it failed to start. She looked at it confused and tapped it again.
Cay coughed into his hand and said, “Done.”
The Unlocking
Before his imprisonment Cay had never thought that he could be so excited about anything, but seeing a man cut open his cell door had been bliss. He’d hopped from one foot to another as he waited for him to finish.
Helena Baldstone had been waiting for him with an itinerary, and she’d taken him from his cell to a spaceship with no stops in between. Cay had been surprised to find out that his assignment wasn’t in the Callisto habitat. It was in the Oort Cloud. He’d never left Callisto, but he was out of confinement and could use his ability again. That was all he cared about.
Small though it was, the ship on which he was berthed was much larger than his home for the past year. During the trip he was given an endless supply of files that were considered difficult to decrypt, but they weren’t. The files’ contents were junk, but the thrill of using his ability again after so long was electric. He was also given a simulator for a spaceship with a very strange configuration. Cay couldn’t figure out why something so small that it required passengers to wear EVA suits would be at all desirable.
Reveling in his freedom, Cay didn’t mind the travel time or the new people, new food, new clothes, new codes, and new rooms. Every day spent not staring at a ceiling was a great day.
After a month in transit he was still delighted by his new circumstances, but even more delighted to reach their destination, FAME Station 5. Upon disembarking he was surprised by just how minimalist it was. It was as though the designer of his cell had been asked to design a space station. There were no decorations or frills. Everything was purely functional and devoid of aesthetic considerations.
Other small things threw him as well. For example, the lights were a different color than he was used to. On Callisto all of the lights in public spaces were a uniform color; the same was true here, but it was a different color. It was a small thing, trivial even, but it kept him aware of just how far from home he was. The air tasted and smelled funny too, another change that he’d not expected.
Cay had noticed such disparities on the ship but had been willing to put them down to the vagaries of shipboard life. He could have asked someone about them, but he didn’t want to draw attention to his inexperience or give anyone the idea that he’d be interfacing in proscribed ways to answer questions.
He’d been in his assigned room for less than two minutes when there was a knock on the door. Apparently they were eager to have him start. He opened the door and was greeted by a surprise.
Not one to be star-struck, Cay still couldn’t help himself. His visitor was a tall, broad-shouldered man with an oval face framed by medium-length brown hair. It was the most famous person alive and the last person Cay would ever have expected to see deep in the Oort Cloud. “You’re Calm!” he exclaimed.
Calm inclined his head and replied, “Yes.”
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you on Earth, or anywhere else?”
“I’m here because there are few distractions in this place, and you’re someone new. As to the rest, they obviously haven’t told you much,”
Cay laughed, still delighted by the surprise. “No. When I was promised a release from detention if I could do a job, I jumped at it.”
“Well, you’re going to be working with me.”
Unable to stop himself, Cay blurted out his questions. “What will we be doing? Why do they need you out here? There isn’t either wind or fire in space, is there?”
“No. Can you pilot a ship?”
“If it runs on electricity, I can make it do what I want.”
Calm nodded to himself as though that response answered a far more complex question. “Interesting. What do you call it?”
“Call what?”
“Your ability, your power. What do you call it?”
“Oh, interfacing.”
Again Calm nodded. “That’s appropriate.”
“So what will we be doing?” This was the real question. After a month of posing it, Cay was no closer to knowing what he was supposed to do.
“Unlocking a problem. Baldstone decided that you might be the key we need.”
“Can you be more specific?”
Calm shrugged. “I’d tell you, but like you I’m a little outside the chain of command, and they’re touchy about that out here.”
“So . . . no?”
“No.”
“When do we start?”
For the first
time in their interaction Calm looked pleased. His mouth curled up, and his eyes crinkled. “Today,” he said.
Cay’s mood had lifted when he’d been brought to Armstrong. Seeing the small craft had validated the hours he’d spent piloting it in the simulator. They had of course insisted that he demonstrate his competence with it before going on the mission. It was always the same with everyone: people might have been told what his Keystone ability enabled him to do, but no one ever appreciated what it meant without at least one demonstration.
He’d given them their demonstration, and they’d briefed him on the artifact. They would never know what an effort of will it had taken for him to wait for them to tell him rather than dive into their systems and absorb the information for himself. Once the briefing was over they’d left on the Explorer within the hour.
Now accompanied by Calm, he watched the artifact loom into view. Exotic energy swirled around them, never quite breaking through Calm’s protection. “I’m supposed to interface with that” asked Cay, “while all the purple stuff is attacking us?”
“No,” replied Calm. “Now let me focus.” A moment later the wild energy abated and disappeared. “You’re supposed to interface with anything you can,” he added. “I’m just here to get us in and out.”
“What do I do now?”
“You’re asking me? Sorry, kid, but you’re supposed to be the expert on that.”
Cay turned to his task. He’d been told what to expect before they left the station. Ever since then he’d been racking his brain over how to do it. This wasn’t some human device designed for his personal use. He didn’t know where to begin.
He reached out toward the artifact with his mind. Large though it was physically, the mental footprint presented to Cay was more impressive. It cast a shadow in his mind as though he were standing at the base of a sentient structure. He felt both welcomed and intimidated.
There was a teasing sensation in his mind, something just out of reach. He pushed at the feeling, which was elusive and slippery. It was incredible that something with so large a footprint would be so hard to pin down.
Whereas breaking encryption felt like slicing through flimsy ribbon, here he was unsure of his target. He wasn’t even sure what he was using to reach it when, without warning, he felt himself slide into a crack. There it was! An avenue of approach. It was like wedging his fingers into a crevice while dangling from a cliff.
Cay held on, then pushed. As he did so, the artifact in his mind’s eye lit up with lines of light like alien graffiti. The sensor screens exploded with unfamiliar data. His mind was sent adrift in swirling currents, the likes of which he had never encountered.
He swam through a rip tide of data, the deeper meaning of which he couldn’t begin to fathom. No previous experience had prepared him for this, or even given him any clues as to what tactics to try. He improvised with glee. Not only was he interfacing again, but it was also an invigorating challenge. Whatever the artifact held, after a year of boredom he was once more alive. He was aware of an underlying structure, a foundation to which he could cling. If only he could find the right perspective and the right rules!
All technology had rules, but comparing a computer system to this artifact was like comparing a match to a volcano. Whatever it was, he knew that it must be a repository of incredible information. That knowledge drove him forward, fueling his curiosity.
Cay imagined himself standing up, ignoring the intense light that radiated off the artifact, and walking across the violent sea of energy. Throwing caution to the wind, he placed both hands onto different lines of glowing light. A purple radiance emanated from the artifact and stretched out in an elliptical plane, sweeping around the asteroid before encompassing the entire solar system.
The Sweep
Cay’s eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed, a marionette whose strings had been cut. Calm caught him and stared through his face plate. The radiance had passed through his own sphere as if it were no impediment. He felt naked, unprotected, vulnerable.
A voice roared over his intercom, “Report! Report! Abort mission.”
The urgent voice brought Calm back into the moment. “Cay has collapsed,” he said. “We’re returning to Explorer.”
The exotic energy that had enveloped the Armstrong on its forays to and from the asteroid was absent. Calm was aware of this anomaly while focusing on Cay. The kid appeared to be alive but unconscious. Why had Cay collapsed? What was that light? What had it done to them?
Upon docking they were met by support staff who carried Cay through the airlock to remove his suit and test his vital signs. Meanwhile Explorer headed back to FAME Station 5.
Calm watched the men attending to Cay. There was an intensity to their actions that conveyed a sense of immense urgency. People rushed by in the passageway. The ship reminded Calm of a disturbed anthill—frantic activity everywhere.
He grabbed one of the passing workers and asked, “Why is everyone so panicked?”
“They’re gone!”
“Who’s gone?”
“Earth! The Sun! They’re gone!”
Day 2
Morning Fears
Deklan awoke uncomfortable.
Again.
Details came rushing back to him, overwhelming him.
He remembered the fight; he remembered speeding; he remembered losing control and jumping the guardrail. He remembered the timeless fall of his car that had dragged on for an eternity. He remembered the pain. He remembered waking in the morgue.
Deklan forced himself to focus on the cat that had just landed on his chest. Mittens. This was the first time in his life that the overweight feline’s crashing onto his chest was an improvement over the previous day.
He pushed her off with ill grace. She was an unwanted legacy from a failed relationship. He’d have taken her to the pound years ago except she was so ugly that it would have been a death sentence. Each time she climbed his shelf of vintage model cars and jumped on him he reconsidered the choice to keep her. He had to get out of bed now. Otherwise she’d keep pouncing on him until he fed her.
Deklan flipped between channels on the screen. Yesterday he’d awoken in a morgue; today, a Saturday, he was channel-surfing. Already the media had settled on referring to the odd purple effect that he kept hearing about as “The Sweep.” He was fascinated by the eight minutes of darkness and the new stars. Everyone else was fascinated by the new Keystones.
The various news outlets were in stiff competition to discover the most interesting Keystones. Deklan flipped between channel after channel that showed close-ups of Keystones with physical aberrations. He paused at an interview with a man who had two tentacles sprouting from his torso under each arm. Another show centered on a man with furry flaps that resembled wings and a hard ridge of what looked like keratin that started at his nose and swept over his head to his shoulders. Other channels featured individuals’ antennae, scales, extra limbs, and translucency. The more obvious the physical transformation, the greater the public fascination.
There was also great interest in just how many new Keystones there were. In the span of a few moments Keystones had gone from being rare to commonplace. Estimates abounded, but there were no hard numbers.
The sheer variety meant that, instead of becoming jaded and uninterested, the public was growing ever more intrigued. Deklan hoped that the surplus of information, not to mention the rash of property damage, would keep people from noticing that for a brief while, before he deleted the morgue’s records, he had been dead.
He kept trying to ignore the note he’d found on his toe: This was the easy part. It will get harder. Try to do the right thing. Good luck. What did that even mean?
Vibrations from his Uplink alerted him to an incoming call. This time it wasn’t from a friend but the police. Since The Sweep he’d been dodging social calls apart from a chat with his parents. He wanted a chance to process what had happened at the morgue and the crash that led up to it.
; His Uplink was similar in form to an antiquated wristwatch, but he preferred it to the more modern models. It was difficult to lose or steal, and the release was voice-activated. Flicking a finger over its screen, he routed the call to his TV. “Hello?”
“Mr. Tobin?” The person on the other end sounded bored.
Deklan steadied his voice, dreading the idea that someone was following a paper trail that led back to him in the morgue. “Speaking,” he replied.
“Sir, we’ve found your car. I regret to inform you that it’s been in an accident.”
Deklan felt his pulse slow, only now aware that it had spiked. It was time to feign surprise. “What? How bad is the damage?”
“I haven’t seen it, but according to this file you’re going to need your insurance.”
Deklan kept up his charade of surprise and mixed in some outrage. “Who’s done this? Where can I see it?”
If anything the voice on the other end slipped deeper into a monotone. “We have it impounded with other stolen vehicles until you claim it. You can come at any time, though there may be a wait. Things have been busy today.”
An hour later Deklan was at the impound lot staring at his car. Even knowing that it was his, he didn’t recognize the twisted wreckage. He noticed in particular that the driver’s seat was stained with copious amounts of blood.
Deklan’s hands roamed over his torso of their own accord. He’d awoken feeling fine, both in the morgue and this morning. He was sure that he was some sort of Keystone now, but what kind?
Was this a one-time-only second chance? If he were in another catastrophic accident, would he wake up again? He didn’t feel different, apart from some small aches. He decided that he was in no hurry to seek out another mishap.
Rodents
Keystones: Altered Destinies Page 3
