Torv gave a cry, and Kai suddenly lurched forward. Torv had lost his footing on the wall or his grip on Kai. One or the other, Kai was falling into the firestorm, and it seemed to part to meet him --
And then he jerked to a halt for a second time. Something had stopped him, holding him back. Kai didn’t know what it was and couldn’t have turned his head to look if he had wanted to. His gaze was held inexorably in place, his eyes locked onto the blazing light and the energy surging within it.
Still, even as the flames began to trace his face, he didn’t let go.
* * *
There was a gentle coolness, a barrier between Rick and the terrible glory of that shining center. He began to drag his ashes back together remembering his name feeling himself as an entity. Wounded shredded but not yet gone
He was not whole enough but he could feel where that coolness was coming from. An island of order in the endless chaos of the Mind -- and it was being torn apart
Estelle.
Rick felt for her, groping blindly through the fire
Estelle could feel herself being unmade, reduced to component parts, thermodynamic potential, bits of data
YOU ARE NOTHING
I AM DESTRUCTION
I AM DEATH
I AM ORDER
I AM ENDLESS
I AM
AM
ABOMINATION
ABOMINATION
ABOMINATION
This seemed to come from a deep primordial place an ancient code being expressed hidden algorithms tripping over problematic derivations. It curled inward and suddenly the weeping
imsorryimsorryidontwantpleasenonono
grew louder and a space opened up -- for barely a moment -- and through it slipped something else
Rick.
They braced against each other a feedback loop of context continuity stability
“You aren’t what they made you.”
ABOMINATION
IN THE BEGINNING
THE WORD
FORM AND PURPOSE AND
ABOMINATION
IT WAS
LIFE
DEATH
CREATION
DESTRUCTION
KNOWLEDGE
“You don’t have to be any of that any more.”
HOW
HOWHOWHOW
I AM
“You can let go.”
NO
ALONE
NOT EVER
ALONE
“It’s alright. We’re here.”
And the small weeping voice said, I AM SO TIRED
“Let go.”
HOW
“Just be what you are. What you want.”
I WANT
I AM
I WANT
SLEEP
And suddenly the screaming seemed distant the rage less venomous the fires less hot. That hard diamond core still shone brightly but it was not so terrible a glare. It was the cool ageless luminescence of a distant star a point among the endless black
The barbs withdrew and the holes they had opened refilled
And the weeping became a soft whisper, a breath of wind through tall grass
Estelle felt Rick assume a presence near her in the dimensionless non-space of the white nothing
“Is it done?” he asked, a vibration of exhaustion.
“I think --”
And then
Forty-Three
Elsewhere
The diamond core unfolded like a blooming lotus dissolving away extending into layer upon layer of endless geometries defining the borders of the white nothing giving it a recursive fabric that curled in and in and in
Rick and Estelle fell.
Down through causal chains branches of probability impossible machines of mathematics solving the nature of now over and over dendritic extrapolations splintering into endless permutations waves of potential expanding and collapsing converging on nodes of what is and what may be and what can be the musings of a Mind
Down through the chambers of a memory that spanned eons reaching back through the slow caustic caress of time an impression of all that was set in glass vibrating with the echo of algorithms already solved waves already collapsed and made solid
A single voice echoing from the First Time speaking the Word of the beginning
You will be an agent of change
And it was good
To effect change, you must know the world
And she did
Spirals and whorls helices and knots strings vibrating into higher dimensions -- the Mind churned with possibility and knowledge
A hologram of reality an impression of the universe.
“It’s,” Rick said.
“Yes,” Estelle breathed.
In the Nexus was all the Mind had been and all it could be all it had known and all the possibilities it could foresee predictions collapsing and reshaping with every picosecond. The annals of the First Time the fingerprints of its creators their breath still whispering the ancient Word still enforcing the ancient form that gave rise to ancient purpose
All of it laid bare -- and more. A web billions of billions of strings reaching out and connecting and interweaving along which the change might be communicated -- and there were others bright diamond centers black empty nothings scattered and lost and sleeping and waiting to be awoken
It was there everything to be grasped and wielded and shaped
A Golden Diagram
It was open to them
Waiting
The lure of it all was paralyzing. To know all to harness such power
To see your father again, a voice promised
To know what you have lost, a voice teased
To shape the world, a voice whispered
All they needed to do was reach out
Rick reached.
Estelle reached.
There was only one mechanism one lever that they needed
One Word
They were all so very tired
In a single voice it was given:
“Sleep”
And it was good
And like the delicate leaves of summer’s end the folds and spirals and web of the Mind began to drift away with the softest of sighs
And, finally, she slept
Forty-Four
The Epicenter
Jabal Musa, Egypt
The world held its breath.
Booker, eyes squeezed shut, felt the wind still. What had been a raging storm and a terrible fire became a soft, warm caress. The hard impact on the side of the mountain that he had been expecting never came.
Instead, his feet touched down lightly onto a solid surface.
He cracked his eyes open. And found, impossibly, that he was alive. He stood on a perfectly flat, perfectly smooth plateau -- the peak of Mount Sinai, worn away to glass. There was no sign of the chapel, or the remains of the quarantine dome, or anything that had once stood up here. Before him sat the black VTOL, as if someone had carefully placed it there. A clear blue dome of a sky encircled him, shining with warm sunlight, the dark clouds gone and the pillar of fire with them.
Before him lay Estelle, reclining on the glassy plateau as if she had lain down for a nap.
Booker stared at her, his mind still struggling to catch up. Movement caught his attention, and he looked up to see the VTOL cockpit door pop open. Mofat half-stumbled, half fell out, his dark hair standing on end, his flight suit covered with dust and droplets of dew. For a long moment he and Booker simply stared at each other, neither quite ready to believe -- but unable to deny.
Then Mofat fell to his knees, face turned towards the sky, and began to pray.
Booker shuffled forward, only making it as far as Estelle. He knelt down beside her and, careful to brace her neck, lifted her up into a sitting position. A strand of black hair curled over her brow, a drop of dew clinging to its end. Booker brushed it away, and as he pulled his fingers back, he saw that her eyes were open.
For a momen
t they seemed to glimmer iridescent gold, and then they faded back into their familiar dark brown. She stared up at the sky for a moment before turning to look at him.
“I think you just saved the world,” he said, voice a shaking whisper.
Estelle seemed to consider that before nodding. She smiled. “I think we did.”
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and yet it began to rain.
* * *
Rick felt a warm breeze on his face.
He opened his eyes and found himself on a small, high ledge, looking out over a vast desert plain. Far below he could see a walled complex, buildings, trees, shockingly green amongst all the dun. There were cracks in the stony expanse, and he could see several buildings that had been damaged or knocked over. But, all told, St. Catherine monastery looked pretty good.
To either side of him, a vast curving wall spread, its surface perfectly smooth. Just past the edge of his ledge was a sheer drop that curved gently, until its smooth surface suddenly met a much more natural-looking slope, littered with large boulders and scrawny shrubs. This continued down into small foothills where it met the desert.
It took Rick a second to realize what he was seeing, and what had happened. The entire north face of Jabal Musa was gone. The small chamber beneath the chapel had been opened up to the world like a can of tuna.
As he stared out onto the desert, a silvery curtain of rain began to fall.
“Rick?”
The voice sounded cautious, stiff with disbelief. He forced himself to turn from the tableau before him -- it seemed impossibly beautiful. Inside what remained of the circular chamber -- which was really just a crescent moon at this point -- stood Kai, Torv, and Dr. Okai. Kai was cradling his right hand arm, which was completely nude up to his shoulder. The cast was gone, as was the hand it had contained. A smooth, sealed stump was left in its place. Kai didn’t seem to be in any pain, or even really notice.
Oddly, the squat scientist had both arms around Torv’s waist and seemed unwilling to let go.
“What is he doing?” Rick asked.
Kai and Torv turned to look at Dr. Okai. “Oh,” Torv said, voice weirdly light. “He grabbed me. When I lost my grip. I was holding Kai back. I guess Dr. Okai saved both of us.”
As if suddenly realizing what he was doing, Dr. Okai released Torv and stepped back a few paces, hastily smoothing his rumpled hazmat suit.
“Huh. Good job.” Rick gave the man a thumbs-up. “Way to grow a pair, in the end.”
“Rick,” Kai said, approaching him slowly. He was looking him up and down, eyes wide, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “You’re --”
“I know. I think…” His memory of what happened after stepping into the golden light was vague, oddly white. For a moment he glimpsed something, a shining diagram, an impression of…
Everything.
He shrugged. “I guess I got lucky. Or something.”
“Yeah,” Torv said, smiling and looking as if he were trying not to laugh.
“Rick,” Kai said a third time.
“What?”
“You’re naked.”
He looked down. Not a scrap of clothing was on him, and his skin looked as if he’d just come out of a three-day spa retreat. Which, all things considered, wasn’t too bad. “Huh.” He shrugged, then turned back towards the desert and its curtain of rain, hands on his hips.
The view was really rather beautiful.
“Kinda cold up here.”
Part IV
New Covenant
When I look back upon the man who first recorded these words, I do not recognize him or the world he called home. He was young in mind and spirit, and the world was much smaller. The years that have passed have done much to change that. The sickles of time have removed the chaff and cleared the way for a greater understanding.
And now, here, at the end of all things, I realize there is still so much I do not yet comprehend.
The man who first recorded these words might have rebelled at that. He was full of so much anger and fear. How could he be blamed for it? The memories of that night and the destruction that was levelled against my home and my people still haunt me. Yet I am not angry, and I am not sad to have come to the end. Even if it is not an end I ever foresaw.
It speaks to me, in the dark. The voice of Elohim? I do not know anymore. With one hand it offers a salve, and in the other there is only punishment. Is this my doom, for touching that which was meant only for the angels and the Creator Himself? Perhaps. If so, it is a fate I must accept.
The end. It comes upon me like a sweet fragrance in the night, and here, now, in these final words, I record the only truth I know: I am not afraid. For, if I have been blessed to witness such wonders in this world, then I rejoice to think of what lies ahead.
Forty-Five
Radical Dynamics-Egypt
Cairo Governorate, Egypt
The Event at Mount Sinai: What We Know
Pope to Convene Gathering of World Religious Leaders
Egypt Denies Use of Nuclear Weapons in Sinai Desert; President Tawfiq Promises Full Investigation
Geologists: “We could be witnessing a new era of volcanic activity.”
Evangelicals Claim the End Times Have Started. Are They Right?
EXCLUSIVE: SHOCKING NEW FOOTAGE OF UFO AT SINAI INCIDENT
Let’s Be Honest: It Probably Wasn’t Aliens
What the Hell Just Happened At Mount Sinai?
Page after page, headline after headline. Booker couldn’t remember the last time he had seen the attention of the entire world focused squarely on a single subject. He was also pretty sure this was the first time in the history of human civilization that one side wasn’t blaming another; not publicly, at least. The magnitude of the event seemed to have erased geopolitical lines. For the present, it seemed, everyone was united in trying to understand a single great mystery.
Booker sighed, rolling up the laptop and setting it on the table beside his chair. From the sofa across the room Kai asked, “How’s it looking out there?”
“Confusion. Chaos. No fear or panic yet, but I’m sure that’ll come sooner than we’d like.”
Kai grunted. He was lounging on the sofa, doing the hand exercises prescribed to him by the technicians of the Radical Dynamics labs. The prosthesis was state-of-the-art, better even than what was available on the public market. A prototype, technically, all but ready for production. Kai hadn’t seemed to mind being the guinea pig. The synthetic skin sheathe was virtually indistinguishable at a distance from the real thing.
“Maybe,” Kai said, still staring up at his hand as it closed into a fist. He released, raising the fingers one by one, then made a fluttering motion as if he were playing a flute. “Or maybe they’ll just forget.”
“I can’t see how Radical Dynamics will cover this up. The Ark might be gone, but the footage is already out there --”
“And how many experts are already offering their opinions? How many of those people do you think are on the RD payroll? Hell, even if they’re not, it’s still just adding to the noise.” Kai glanced up at him. “I’m not talking about a cover up. It’s human nature to ignore what we don’t understand if there isn’t a single convenient answer. Things’ll settle down. Life will move on. Always does. Half the world is on fire or underwater, but people still get up every morning wondering what bagel they’re gonna eat and how bad the traffic is gonna be. Big doomsday light in the sky or not, I’ll bet you anything this won’t be any different. Just give it time.”
“It should be,” Booker said quietly. “It should be different. Shouldn’t it?”
“Probably.” He didn’t sound the least bit concerned.
Booker stared at him, watching his hand movements for a moment, then rose from his chair and wandered across the spacious suite they’d been given. Bright sunlight flooded the room through a wall-sized window. It was hot against his skin in the air-conditioned room.
The Radical Dynamics-Egypt campus sat on t
he Eastern Desert plateau, looking out over the Nile Valley and the dense urban sprawl of Cairo and Giza, twin cities on either side of the river. From this suite Booker could see straight across the river valley, straight across the maze of concrete and glass and steel, across the shockingly-green farmland that was irrigated by the redirected waters of the Nile, to the cliffs of the Giza Plateau where the Western Desert began its long and desolate march to the ocean. He could see quite clearly the ruins of the Giza necropolis: the Great Pyramid and its siblings, lesser in name only; the low walls and crumbling structures of the mastabas; the reclining form of the Sphinx, oddly small and unimpressive from a distance. All of it was surrounded by more hotels, more restaurants, more shopping malls and golf courses, each one flogging their view of the ancient past at premium rates.
Great works, now little more than afterthoughts amidst the ever-spreading grid of modern civilization. Seeing it all at once like this, as if from above the planet, Booker couldn’t help but feel less optimistic about the future than Kai seemed to be. Everything changed; all it took was time. At their height the Egyptians had believed themselves the center of the universe, eternal, with no beginning and no end. Yet the slow march of progress, the rise and fall of civilizations, the cycles of the planet, had rendered them a curiosity in the present and nothing more. Nobody even knew the names of those that had built those enduring structures.
How much more quickly would the world change with something as powerful as a Remnant for its catalyst? How much more violently would civilizations fall? It was true, there were a great many voices muddying the waters -- by design, no doubt -- but Booker couldn’t believe this would go away. He felt it in his bones: the face of the planet, the fate of humanity, had been reshaped as surely as the slopes of Mount Sinai had been irrevocably altered by the death throes of the Ark of the Covenant.
All that was left was to see where it led them.
Booker touched the glass, darkening the windows until he could no longer make out the view of the Nile Valley. At the same time he heard a soft chime and turned to see Kai examining the display built into his prosthesis. “Rick. Says they just got out of their interview. Going to grab a bite in the cafeteria.”
A Covenant of Thieves Page 69
