by Ike Hamill
Adam nods. He twists the rock and a brief rainbow flashes across the wall of his cabin. I’m not sure if it was real, or just a flare in the lens of my eye.
“It took me decades and decades to repeat that trick. I found a few natural folds, or maybe they were folds left open by someone else. But it was a long, long time before I was able to drum up a fold of my own. I think I needed the pressure of a life-or-death situation. It seems strange that only a great stress like that would lead me to that level of relaxation. I couldn’t live in that forest anymore. You were probably thinking the same thing. It was like torture, right?”
It takes me a second to put context to his question. “No. It wasn’t so bad. I was starting to figure things out, and I had just met all my neighbors. I think I would have done okay. I was eager to get back home, but I suppose that was mostly because I didn’t appreciate the injustice of the accusation that got me there. They had me on trial for a silly, childish whim. I wanted to get home mostly just to spite them.”
“And now? Why are you so eager to go home now?”
“To save everything,” I say. “I worked hard to get that asteroid averted, and now you’re telling me that the place is going to be destroyed anyway. Even if talking to those people in Australia doesn’t work, it would be worth a shot, don’t you think?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
---- * ----
I’m already familiar with my room. Adam bids me a good night and heads up to his own quarters upstairs. This is an interesting life he has crafted. I suppose it resembles the level of technology he grew up with. I think it might have been easier living in the forest. Amongst the trappings of civilization, I expect a clock by the bed and a television so I can watch the news before I go to sleep.
For clarity—clocks and televisions ran on electricity. Adam makes electricity with the solar panels on his roof, but he chooses to not use it for such frivolities. Maybe it would be too difficult to make a clock that works on the shortened day of this planet. Maybe he doesn’t like TV because he didn’t grow up with it. He seemed to watch it through the vent in my living room back home though.
I always had the sense that I was Adam’s only connection to humanity. Maybe that was true. Maybe it wasn’t. He certainly hasn’t given up on human relationships. He’s talking about bringing a woman here to be his companion. In fact, he seemed to think he could persuade a whole group to come and take up residence in this lonely place.
Looking out the window, I’m surprised at how foreign the night sky looks. Maybe there are just too many stars. In the city, I rarely saw more than a few really bright ones amongst the glow of the streetlights. But I would swear it’s the arrangement of the stars that bothers me. There are no recognizable patterns. I would have probably suffered the same confusion if I had ever been to the southern hemisphere of Earth.
Music would be good. Adam should bring a stereo or something. That wouldn’t use much power, and it would be soothing to new recruits. Anything to mask the fact that this place has no animal sounds. It’s unnatural.
I’m just starting to nod off when it occurs to me that I should have asked Adam about puzzleBox. At one point, he told me to go there looking for a job. I wonder if he had some deeper motive there.
TAP. TAP.
Suddenly, I’m wide awake. I look towards the door, but I know that’s not where the sound came from. Reluctantly, I turn my eyes towards the window. Blocking out the sea of stars are a round head and two little ears. They would be adorable if I wasn’t already familiar with the owner.
TAP. TAP.
“Shush,” I whisper. I slip from underneath the quilt and walk over to the window. I lift it just an inch or so. “What do you want?”
“Let me in,” the black bear says. “The bugs are murdering me out here.”
“I’m not going to let you in. This isn’t even my house. Stay out there. I’ll meet you on the back deck.”
I hear him grunt his disappointment as I shut the window.
---- * ----
I’m wearing the pajamas I found in the guest room. I wrap myself tight in the borrowed robe.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I could ask you the same,” he says. He climbs onto one of Adam’s deck chairs. The thing groans under his weight.
“I had business with my friend. This is his cabin. I’m sure he would appreciate it if you would leave immediately before you break his furniture.” It’s a combination of truth and lie. I don’t feel like I owe the bear any more than that.
“That’s pretty rough treatment for the bear who recently saved your life.”
“You did nothing.”
“My Retros rescued you from the brown bear.”
“They dragged me across rooftops until I was mortally injured and then left me for dead. I was recaptured immediately.”
“Oh. Well I’m sure there are two sides to that story.”
“What do you want? Why are you here?” I ask.
“I’m just here to make sure you’re okay. I heard that you might have run into trouble, and I wanted to help you out. You know—no hard feelings about turning me in.”
“That’s bull,” I say. “You didn’t know I had any trouble. How did you find me here?”
“I have ways,” he says. “Look, if you don’t need help, I’ll just be on my way. I have some business back on Earth.”
I don’t trust him. Not one bit. However, I wouldn’t mind using him for a free trip back to my home planet. Adam seems more interested in arguing with me than helping me, and if this bear is going to open a fold back to Earth, then maybe I can sneak behind him.
“Please be on your way then,” I say. “You’re a criminal. I don’t want to be accused of bringing a criminal to my friend’s cabin.”
He puts his paws up. “By all means. I wouldn’t want to lower the property values with my unsavory reputation.” He pushes his way up out of the chair. The deck shakes when he lands on four paws.
“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” he asks.
I fold my arms.
“Take care of yourself,” he says.
I stand there while he lumbers down the steps to the meadow. I watch for a second to get a sense of the direction he’s taking. The bear heads for the lake.
As soon as he’s over the hill, I get started. My clothes are hanging on the line between the back porch and a nearby tree. I intended to pull them in before dark, but now I’m glad I didn’t. I change into my own clothes. They’re a little damp, but I’ve had worse.
I step off the deck and head after the bear. I’ve made a mistake with this bluff. I’ll never be able to find where he went. Just as I’m about to give up hope, I hear crunching footsteps ahead of me. I peek around a tree and I see the bear. He’s crossing a grassy meadow with a swaggering gait. He’s taking his time, probably relieving himself as he walks.
I creep along the edge of the meadow, testing the wind as I go. I think I’m okay. In my time living in the forest, I’ve picked up some skill at tracking animals without them knowing.
The bear disappears over an embankment and I rush along the edge of the woods so I can get over the hill and see where he went.
I’ve seen pictures of the northern lights. That’s what this looks like. It’s like a ripple of golden light, barely visible, that distorts the stars. It’s beautiful. In the soft glow, the bear is hunched over. Something in his paws is glowing even brighter than the ripple, and it’s illuminating his face.
The light in his paws goes out. The bear raises his head, looks around, and then steps forward.
He’s gone.
With the bear gone, the ripple of golden light detaches from the ground and begins to drift up the hill. I scramble up the bank and run for it.
A million concerns are going through my head. Did the bear really return to Earth? Is the fold still open? Is it safe to use even though it has moved away from the original location? I try to ignore all these questions as I run. The win
d kicks up and the ripple moves away from me. I run faster, but the terrain is uneven. I can’t seem to gain any speed.
When the wind dies, I catch a break. I’m able to make real progress on the thing. Unfortunately, I have a new problem. The ripple is beginning to fade out. With the last of my stamina, I grunt through the last few steps and jump at it.
The golden light washes through me. It’s warm and calming. In an instant, it’s gone.
I’m falling through the air. The day is so bright around me that I can’t see a thing. My eyes were wide open in the night of Maldy. Now they’re squeezed shut against the dazzling sun.
I hit the dusty dirt on my shoulder and the air is driven from my chest. When my momentum carries me to my back, I shoot my arms out to stop my skid. There’s a rock pressing into my lower back. I cough and spit out sand as I sit up.
My head’s still spinning a bit, but the world comes gradually into focus.
He’s standing there on his hind legs, looking at me.
He’s every inch as out of place as I feel. We’re in an orange-red desert, with scrubby trees and worn hills.
The bear is flanked by two men in khaki uniforms. They would look much more imposing if they wore pants instead of shorts. The sight of their bare knees diminishes their authority. The guns they hold brings it right back.
“Mars?” I ask. I start coughing again. The heat is burning my throat. I can hardly breathe.
The bear grunts out a growling laugh.
“There’s no grass on Mars,” he says. I look to his side. He’s right, I suppose. The little tufts barely qualify as life, but they’re more than Mars could hope to support. Also, over his shoulder I can see a road and a tan Jeep parked there.
“Get up,” the bear says.
I get to my feet slowly, looking up as I do. I’m trying to spot the ripple. The fold must be around me somewhere. According to Adam’s story, they seem to be bi-directional. I don’t see anything. Maybe there’s a little distortion in the sky above me, but if that’s it I would need a ladder to go back through.
The men grab me under the armpits and begin to march me forward.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
* Working *
I’M STUFFED INTO THE front seat with the two guards. The bear takes up the back of the Jeep. The vent is blowing cold air in my face. We’re speeding down the left side of a two-lane road. The driver slows and the last clue clicks into place. A mob of kangaroos crosses our path.
“Up here,” the bear says.
The driver turns onto a trail carved into the red dirt. After running parallel to the road for a while, the trail curves to the left and loops up and around the back of a big rock. The driver takes the trail to the end and then parks the Jeep next to the smooth face of the rock.
The bear grunts and squirms to turn himself around. He climbs out the back of the Jeep while the guards take me through the passenger’s door.
“In the center,” the bear says.
He leads the way through a little pass. The big rock is shaped like a donut on its side, but it’s not a complete circle. There’s a pass-through at the back. The bear leads us through to the center of the donut, where one rock is about the size of a coffin. The guards move me towards the rock.
I’m compliant until I understand that they mean to position me face-down on the rock, bent over. I don’t even want to imagine what’s going to happen next.
I get an elbow free and manage to catch one of the guards pretty good on the temple. As he falls away, I grab for the gun in his holster. I get it halfway out, but he bats it away before I can really draw it. Meanwhile, the other guard grabs for my arms, trying to pull me back.
We all stop when the bear roars. The sound is so loud that it makes my jaw hurt with the vibration.
Even the guards have their hands up.
“Bend over that rock,” the bear says in a low growl.
I would almost rather die. Almost.
I start to follow his orders slowly and then his big paw pushes me down the rest of the way. His claw rakes up my back and then I feel a sharp pain right on my spine. I grab at the smooth stone. The pressure on my spine holds me down and it also seems to paralyze me. For a fraction of a second, I imagine the warm, golden light of the ripple and it feels like I could almost relax into it.
Then the pain is gone. I roll over and put a hand to my back. There’s a sore spot there. The bear has blood and something shiny on the end of his claw. He holds it out and one of the guards reaches forward and takes the bloody piece of metal from him.
“What the hell…” I begin. My question is cut off as the guard tilts his head back and drops the metal into his own mouth. He swallows with a grimace.
“Good,” the bear says. “Get going.”
With a nod, the guard disappears through the pass.
I’m left with the bear and the guard I attacked.
The bear looks at me. “You should be aware when someone plants a tracking device on you.”
“What?” I ask.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
The bear turns and the guard shoves me hard in the back, indicating that I should follow.
---- * ----
We approach a cluster of low buildings, surrounded by enormous parking lots. The neighborhood is not big on foot traffic. We’re on the border of the desert. I’m guessing that the traffic signal at the corner only gets business during the commuting hours.
The guard pulls up in a reserved spot near the door. He gets out. I could run, but I’m not sure I want to. The bear has brought me to a place called ProNavitas. On the sign, the logo is Earth surrounded by several orbiting objects. Somewhere inside, I’m guessing that people are working to harness a new type of energy. This is where I want to be.
“This is your new home,” the bear says.
We’ll see.
I follow the guard inside. The bear brings up the rear. After we enter through the tall glass doors, the bear disappears to the right. The guard has me sign the guest book—I scrawl ‘Mick Jagger’—and then he leads me to an elevator. This hardly looks like a place where things get done. The floor is too shiny and the ceilings are high. It looks more like a bank than an engineering firm.
He hits the down button. We descend to LL3.
When the doors open, I recognize this place, or at least its ilk. Suspended ceiling, off-white walls, industrial carpet, and an acre of cubicles are spread out in front of us. Heads prairie-dog up from behind the upholstered walls. I’m guessing they don’t get a lot of traffic coming down through the elevator.
Eyes follow us as the guard leads me down to the conference room.
“Wait here,” he says. He closes the door behind me and I’m alone with the big table.
I move to the far end. At least I can take the position of power before my new captors arrive.
I should have guessed. With a laptop computer pressed to her chest, and towing a couple of very young programmers, Janice enters. I can spot programmers from fifty yards. They have tapered fingers, oily complexions, and a jarring combination of clothes.
Janice moves to the seat next to me and her minions sit closer to the door. They’re barely part of the conversation down there.
“Hi,” she says. “That was a pretty long bathroom break.”
“Listen,” I say. I focus on the developers. “I’m not sure you know this, but the stuff you’re working on is very dangerous. There are simulations that show that what you’re working on is going to get out of control and it will either destroy the planet, or the whole universe.”
“We know,” Janice says. She leans forward to interject herself into my eye-line. “We know. I’ve seen the simulations.” She opens her laptop while she talks. “That’s why we’ve moved here, to the middle of nowhere. If something goes wrong, we won’t affect a very large population out here.”
“It could affect the whole universe.”
She waves her hand like she’s clearing the air. “Everything
could affect the whole universe.”
The two developers at the end of the table chuckle and look at each other. She turns and laughs with them.
“I’m not sure what’s so funny,” I say.
Janice looks back to me and blinks slowly before she explains. “They got all those predictions about the disaster from a simulator. Our new energy source relies on the difference between simulated results and actual results to get its power. If their simulation wasn’t wrong, we wouldn’t generate a single amp of current.”
“That…” I start. What she said makes so little sense that I suspect it has frozen my brain. Is it possible to hear something so dumb that it makes your brain stop working? Such a trigger might explain politics. I understand that this is the worst kind of joke. Sometimes, the worst kind of joke is exactly what amuses me. Janice tilts her head at my smile.
“You understand?” she asks.
“Not remotely.”
“Bryce and Crunchy will explain,” she says.
I look to the door, expecting Bryce to enter. I’ve met Bryce—neither one of these guys looks familiar.
The first one speaks without an Australian accent.
“Are you familiar with electron states?”
“Sure,” I say.
The second one speaks with a deep accent. As far as I know, it’s a South African accent, but I suppose it’s Australian. “An electron doesn’t have a defined state until you poke at it. Until then, all you have is a statistical guess at the state. You have a prediction based on a simulation.”
“Okay?”
“Imagine that all the world and all of history is the same way,” Bryce says. “There’s a timeline already carved out, but we can’t know what it is until we encounter it. People build models and simulators to predict the future. There’s always a delta between the prediction and reality.”
