Asimov's SF, September 2006

by Dell Magazine Authors

He lifted his feet to rest on the formation and, knees bent, leaned forward and circled his legs with his arms. Looking down at his feet, he concentrated on the small disk of jittering brightness cast by his lamp. “But what I'm really worried about is that now we have only one light."

  “What'll we do,” said Alex, his voice mirroring the jittery movements of Paul's beam.

  “Nothing. Just sit tight."

  “I can't.” Alex moved his head erratically from side to side, as if he could actually see into the darkness. “I keep feeling the cave's going to collapse and crush me."

  Paul forced a laugh. “Claustrophobia. This is your first cave. It's normal."

  “Yeah. Thanks a lot.” Alex jumped to his feet and took a step or two forward, and then turned back “I can deal with the claustrophobia.” He sat heavily on the rock. “But I can't stop thinking about what will happen if your light fails."

  “Yeah.” Paul closed his eyes for a moment. “Worries me, too.” He slowly got to his feet. “Okay, we've got to go find Conrad. I hadn't realized till now how much I miss his light."

  Alex stood, and Paul led the way towards the sliver-like cleft. “Besides,” he said, “you're right. What else is there to do?"

  At the fissure, Alex held back, apparently with second thoughts. “That's really narrow,” he said. “What if we get stuck?"

  “It widens out after a couple of meters, but then there's a crawlway.” Paul slid sideways into the passage. “And the secret of a crawlway is to keep your arms at your side and inch forward by pushing with your toes."

  “I'm not sure I like this,” said Alex, as he too slid into the fissure.

  “Wait till you see the view at the other end.” Paul grimaced. That was a really lame thing to say.

  The passage ended at a nearly circular, but very small, opening at ground level. Paul dropped to the muddy floor. “Now for this little wormhole,” he said as he wiggled into the opening.

  “It won't take us to another universe, I hope,” said Alex from behind. “You know, this is sort of spooky. What if you get stuck?"

  “Unlikely. If I do, you can squirm up close to me and I'll be able to push forward against your hard hat."

  “What if I get stuck?"

  “You're thinner than I am.” Paul panted from the exertion. “But yeah. This isn't exactly the Lincoln Tunnel. Anyway, if you can take full breaths of air, you can be sure you won't get stuck.” He inched forward, digging in with the toes of his boots and pushing ahead. “It's only when a passage gets so narrow you have to take shallow breaths that things start to get dicey. Hard to talk in those passages. Makes you feel really alone."

  “I don't like this,” said Alex.

  “You're doing fine,” said Paul. “We're at the narrowest point now, and you're still talking."

  The wormhole ended at a large chamber. Paul and Alex clambered out and stood.

  Sweeping with his miner's lamp, Paul saw irregular, translucent columns of pale green and pink: calcite cave formations some two meters thick. Water trickled down from the ceiling, sparkling in the beam of his lamp. Icicle-like stalactites hung from the cave roof, their colors ranging from milky whites to greens to pale blues, with occasional sprinklings of pink. The walls were wet and water-carved, revealing striations that traced the history of the cave over thousands of years.

  “Pretty, isn't it?” said Paul.

  “Yeah.” Alex gawked like a tourist. Then he rubbed a gloved hand across his forehead, leaving more mud on his brow than he'd removed. “But I think it would look a lot prettier to me if I didn't think I'd be gazing at it for the rest of my life."

  Paul chuckled—forced, but still a chuckle.

  “Damn it, Paul.” Alex pounded a fist against the cave wall. “Doesn't anything scare you?"

  “I try not to let it. Besides, what's the use?” Paul felt an instant of satisfaction. He'd been able to fool Alex; he'd been able to mask his panic.

  Alex shrugged and shook his head.

  “I was scared shitless on my first caving trip, too,” said Paul. “Afraid I'd panic and make an idiot of myself."

  “That's not what I'm scared about."

  “I know."

  Alex absently snapped off a small stalactite and fiddled with it.

  “Don't do that,” said Paul. “We've got to protect the cave for the next visitors."

  Alex laughed, his voice echoing hollow in the hard-walled chamber. “Yeah. Next visitors."

  “We'll be okay,” said Paul. “We may be in the cave for a while, but we'll be okay.” He pointed toward the rear of the chamber. “Come on. Let's find Conrad."

  Two openings, close together and fissure-like, pierced the back wall. Paul stood a few meters in front and gazed at them.

  “Are you wondering which way Conrad went?” said Alex.

  “It doesn't matter.” Paul shook his head. “They both go to the same chamber. I was just thinking; it's like a two-slit experiment."

  Alex laughed. “Yeah. If Conrad really has no memory anymore, then by his theory, he could have taken both paths."

  Paul continued gazing at the fissures.

  “I'm joking,” said Alex. “Please tell me you know I'm joking."

  “Yes. I know you're joking. I do not believe he went through both passages.” Paul paused a second or two. “But..."

  “But what?” Alex stared, wide-eyed. “God, don't tell me you're losing it, too."

  “I was just thinking.” Paul stroked his nose and stared at the clefts in the rock wall. “I was just thinking that our situation is sort of like the Schrödinger Cat paradox."

  Alex looked up at the ceiling. “You are losing it."

  “In the Cat Paradox, the cat's neither alive nor dead until someone opens the door to the box—until someone makes a measurement."

  “I thought there was more to it than that,” said Alex, “linear superposition of states, or quantum events, or something like that."

  “Quantum events happen all the time,” said Paul. “What makes the cat special is that it's in a box and cut off from the rest of the world."

  “I don't know why I'm humoring you,” said Alex. “But are you saying that we're neither alive nor dead?"

  “Just speculating,” said Paul. “In the multi-world quantum interpretation, being cut off could mean that we're not in any well-defined world."

  “You're saying that we are the cat?"

  “Just a thought.” Paul shrugged. “Conrad believes that only memory or the act of being observed keeps a system in one world."

  “I know what world I live in,” said Alex. “I have memory."

  “Yeah,” said Paul. “But maybe Conrad doesn't. Now, maybe there are multiple Conrads flitting between multiple worlds.” Paul kicked at a small rock, barely snapping it free from the centimeter-thick layer of mud. “But since our wave-functions interact, we're probably forcing our Conrad to stay in our universe."

  “Okay, okay,” said Alex. “This is starting to weird me out. Let's go find Conrad.” He walked to the left fissure and waited. Paul had to take lead; he had the only source of light.

  Paul scuttled sideways into the opening. “This is roomier than the last one."

  Alex followed. “Roomy? I'd feel better if I could just walk, one foot in front of another. “Hey,” he cried out. “Something flew by my head."

  “A bat, probably.” Paul swung his head around, hitting his helmet against the wall. His light went dead. “Damn.” He flipped the switch a few times, but the lamp stayed dark. “God damn."

  “What happened?” Alex called out.

  “Slammed the light and it went off."

  “I can see that.” Alex's voice sounded sarcastic and nervous at the same time. “Turn it on."

  “I'm trying.” Paul tried working the switch—pushing the toggle forward and back, up and down.

  “Paul?"

  “What?"

  “I can't hear you. I can't see you."

  Paul, still fiddling with the switch, didn't answer.<
br />
  “This is sort of scary,” said Alex.

  Paul, by feel, tried to disassemble the lamp.

  “Paul,” said Alex with a tremor in his voice. “Are you there?"

  “Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?"

  “Aren't you a little scared?"

  “Sheesh,” said Paul. “Well. I'm not exactly thrilled about the situation.” He got the lamp apart, but he dropped a battery and even if he could have seen it, he had no room to bend down and pick it up. Damn it to hell.

  “Paul?"

  “What?” Paul turned his frustration from the lamp to Alex. “We can't keep playing Marco Polo forever, you know."

  “That's a good idea,” said Alex. “Do you mind? I get nervous not knowing you're there. So, if I say ‘Marco,’ you say ‘Polo.’ I'll do the same for you. Humor me, okay?"

  Paul shrugged in the darkness and his shoulders hit the sides of the fissure. “Yeah, fine. Polo."

  “Thanks."

  “But,” said Paul, “can't you hear my breathing?"

  “Yeah, and I hear you slithering along the rocks. But, well...."

  “Well what?"

  “But it's kind of creepy.” Alex laughed, but it didn't sound like he'd found anything funny. “And I'm never really sure it's you."

  Paul shook his head as he reassembled the now thoroughly useless lamp. He put his hard hat back on.

  “What do we do now?” said Alex.

  “Keep going. We've got to get out of this passage and find Conrad—fast.” He started scrambling through the passage. “If Conrad were to come back looking for us and if he went through the other passage, we'd really be up the creek."

  Paul, despite all his experience spelunking, began to feel that the walls were slowly shifting—that they were coming together. He wrinkled his nose in the darkness; after all the times he'd gone caving, only now did he realize how he hated the acrid smell of wet calcite.

  Bumping his knees and twisting his ankles as he went, Paul pushed forward.

  “Marco."

  “Polo,” said Paul, strangely relieved at the sound of Alex's voice.

  After a minute or so of strenuous scrambling, Paul said. “Alex. Are you there?"

  “Yeah. Of course I'm here. Where else would I be?” said Alex, repeating Paul's words with some added measure of sarcasm.

  “I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” said Paul.

  “No. You were just too proud to say ‘Marco.’”

  “Okay, okay."

  “Paul?"

  “Yeah."

  “Do you think Conrad's right when he says that without mass, space becomes undefined?"

  “Yeah, could be.” Paul wondered if Alex was actually interested in physics at the moment, or just using it as a variant of “Marco."

  “Even though Einstein says it becomes flat?"

  Paul laughed. “Einstein didn't believe in quantum mechanics."

  “What about this multi-world stuff. Is this really possible?"

  “It's a real theory. In fact, some people say we're always flitting between these parallel universes—but no one notices because they're all extremely similar."

  “But Conrad thinks that without memory to hold us, we could wind up in a very different universe."

  “You'll have to ask Conrad about that.” Paul hurried forward and suddenly tumbled out of the crevice. “Watch it, Alex,” he said. “We've come to the end of the fissure. I'm in a big chamber now."

  “Yeah,” said Alex. “I can tell by your voice."

  Paul heard him come through and stumble. “You okay?"

  “Yeah. Now what? Oh my god."

  “What's the matter?"

  “Look hard over to the rear,” said Alex. “Gosh, I can't even describe where to look in this damn blackness."

  “What are you talking about? It's not as if there's anything to see."

  “But there is.” Alex virtually squeaked in excitement. “At least I think there is."

  Paul quickly scanned across 180 degrees. “Probably just the effect of darkness, your brain trying to supply light."

  “Oh.” Alex sounded crestfallen. For a half-minute or so, neither spoke, but then Alex said, “Paul, try to see it. I think it's real."

  Paul did try.

  “Well?” said Alex.

  “Maybe, but I'm sure it's a mental glitch. Hey.” Paul felt a hand touch his back and then feel its way down to his arm.

  “I'm going to point your arm to where I think I see it,” said Alex.

  Paul let his arm be directed, and then he gasped. His arm was pointing about twenty degrees upward and in the direction of his own perception of the light.

  “Well?"

  “It might be real,” said Paul. “Come on. Let's check it out. But don't get your hopes up. It might be cave fluorescence. Never seen that in this cave, but I've never been fully dark-adapted before either.” Paul hurried as fast as darkness would permit. “Marco,” called Alex from behind.

  “Polo. Ouch."

  “What happened?"

  “I slammed into the wall. Oh my gosh. It's coming in from a side passage and it's real. Must be Conrad.” He waited until Alex bumped into him and then shouted, “Conrad. We're over here.” He spoke to Alex. “Come on. Let's go meet him. Light has never looked so good."

  “Conrad,” shouted Alex from behind.

  They scrambled toward the light.

  “Why doesn't he answer?” said Alex.

  “And why isn't the light flickering?” said Paul. “I hope he's not unconscious."

  Then they heard a distant shout. “Paul, Alex. Over here."

  Paul jerked his head around to a point downward and about thirty degrees off to the left of the light. He saw another light, this one flickering. He stopped and Alex banged into him.

  “If that's Conrad,” said Alex, “then the other light's coming from another entrance."

  Paul called out, “Conrad, we're coming."

  “No. Stay where you are,” came Conrad's voice. And he sounded his usual, confident self. “I'll come over and guide you to the entrance."

  “Okay,” Paul shouted back. He spoke softly then, almost under his breath. “I can't believe there's really another entrance."

  Alex laughed, a laugh of relief. “It's because of that entrance we're alive."

  “You know,” said Paul, his voice tentative. “Maybe not. Maybe because we're alive, there is an exit."

  “I don't know what you're talking about."

  “Yeah,” said Paul, as Conrad came into seeing distance, “I'm not sure I know what I'm talking about either. Just some multi-world stuff."

  “Your light failed?” said Conrad as he came up.

  “Yeah,” said Alex. “Boy are we happy to see you, and I mean ‘happy,’ and I mean, ‘see.’”

  Conrad laughed. “Come on. Let's get out of here. You've probably had enough cave for your first time.” He turned to Paul. “I've got my memory back—all of it, I think."

  “Great,” said Paul, clapping Conrad on the back. “Concussions can be serious."

  Paul knew that some of his cheerfulness was play-acting; he was thrilled to be rescued, of course, but he couldn't shake the feeling that, in some manner, his brain had let him down. “By the way,” he said with a studied nonchalance. “How did you find the entrance?"

  “It's where it always was. I'm a little surprised you don't remember it.” Conrad turned and strode toward the diffuse light in the distance.

  Alex ran to follow, leaving Paul to bring up the rear.

  Presently, they turned a bend in the passage and some thirty meters ahead, saw daylight filtering through a dense green mass of shrubs and scraggly ground vines. Paul noticed that the vines were adorned with thorns.

  “Not the entrance of choice,” said Conrad, “but it works."

  Alex rushed forward, and head down, using his hard hat as a shield, burst through the tangle of greenery. The thorns ripped into Alex's high-tech, microfiber caving coveralls, but h
e didn't seem to notice.

  Paul, taking advantage of the hole Alex had cleared with his body, darted through.

  While Conrad more carefully made his way out of the cave, Paul tried to get his bearings. Squinting in the dizzying sun-bleached brilliance, he looked over the terrain; they weren't actually very far from the original entrance. Paul stood basking in the familiar—the green, sunlit, craggy hills of upstate New York. He could see Conrad's SUV parked just off the road and could even see the rubber rat Conrad used as a dashboard ornament. And Quantum, Conrad's Belgian Shepherd, leash tied to a door handle, was sleeping, stretched-out, in the shadow of the car.

  Conrad came up from behind. “Okay, let's go home.” He jogged lightly toward the van.

  “I'm sorry I acted like a kid back there,” said Alex, standing beside Paul.

  “Not to worry,” said Paul, still taking in the scenery. “Lots of people, when they go through their first wild cave, feel very vulnerable—like little kids. Besides, we're physicists. We're supposed to act like kids."

  Paul, at a walk, started down after Conrad, stopping every so often to swat at a mosquito. After hours in the perpetual fifteen degree Celsius coolness of the cave, the summer heat felt oppressive and the humidity trapped in his cave-coveralls quickly turned to sweat.

  As Paul and Alex came up to the car, Quantum, who'd been jumping about happily and licking mud off Conrad's face, bared his teeth and growled.

  “Hey.” Conrad knelt in front of his dog. “Quant, boy. These are old friends.” He looked over his shoulder. “Don't know what's gotten into him. He probably blames you for him being tied up here for all this time.” Conrad stood. “Or maybe he knows that we're taking him to the Quantum Mechanic."

  “You mean the vet?” said Alex.

  “Maybe you guys better ride in the back and let Quantum sit up front with me."

  “Yeah, fine,” said Paul. He glanced at Conrad's improvised head-bandage. “You could use some mechanic work as well."

  “Naa. I'm okay.” Conrad gingerly touched his scalp. “Well, maybe if I bark a few times, the vet might take me after he finishes with Quant."

  The three cavers stripped out of their mud-encrusted coveralls, dry-washed their faces, and packed what little gear they had left into their duffels.

  “Too bad about losing our drag-pack,” said Conrad.