The Gemini Effect

by Scott Jarol

  “It’s too late,” said Doc. “Time to get out of here.” He shouted over the railing. “Cynthia, if you can still hear me, you need to find the main entrance. We’ll send someone to get you.”

  “I told you, I’m not leaving without Zekie,” said Ezekiel’s mother.

  Doc shook his head silently, and Ezekiel knew he believed there was nothing more they could do to save Zeke.

  But there was one way.

  “We—I mean, I can do it,” said Ezekiel, pointing to his doppelgänger.

  “It wouldn’t work,” said Doc. “Not enough energy.”

  “I think it might be,” said Ezekiel. His eyes darted about as he calculated in his head.

  “Enough for what?” asked Margaux.

  “He’s right,” said Gary. “A two-gigaton release should close it. I’ve been running the field-mass calculations for Willis, not that he ever listened.”

  “What are we talking about?” asked Margaux.

  “No,” said Doc. “Not again.” He turned to Howard, shutting out Ezekiel as if he would hear no more of his plan. “Maybe you can stabilize it. It worked before. You can retune the QuARC and get out of here before the whole place caves in.”

  The void seemed to crack open as violent flashes zigzagged over its surface.

  “It’s about to expand again,” said Howard. “We’re out of options.”

  Ezekiel positioned himself at the edge of the catwalk, matching Zeke’s distance from the void. Less than six inches. The next time it expanded, it would swallow them both whole.

  “What will happen to him?” Margaux asked Doc, who didn’t respond.

  Ezekiel answered for himself. “I’ll become part of the universe.” He could see that his friends had already accepted the inevitable.

  “But you’re already part of the universe,” said Margaux.

  “Then nothing will really change,” said Ezekiel.

  Chapter 34

  Triton Core, North Star Laboratory

  As the penetrating freeze of the liquid helium continued to claim Zeke’s body, his heartbeat slowed. The curved walls of the room reflected images of the looming star-dusted sphere through his pupils, on to his retinas, and into his fading brain. Memories spiraled into a kaleidoscopic tube. Doc, Cynthia, Margaux, Nate, his mother, and other faces he recognized but hardly knew stretched into alien stick figures projected on the walls of a long tunnel, converging toward the distant image of a man who he recognized as his father. Although he had no memory of his father’s face, he remembered how he often stood, one arm across his chest, his other hand touching his chin. The tube telescoped in on itself, receding into the distance, condensing into a shrinking disk, then a dot. A flicker. Darkness.

  The void scintillated with a corona of orbiting particles. With the faint, final pulse that signaled its next expansion, the void engulfed both him and his doppelgänger, plunging them over the precipice of the universe.

  Freed from their bodies, their consciousness enveloped every point in time and space, as if cradling their own buzzing creation from birth to death. Galaxies flowered like glittering fireworks. Icy comets splashed crackling hot new worlds with cooling seas and seeded them with the chemical building blocks of life, to brew in swells churned by lunar tides and typhoon winds. Volcanoes molded continents from seas of molten lava. Towering precipices sheltered teeming jungles.

  Without eyes, they watched the pirouettes of planets and electrons. Without skin, they felt the nuclear heat of stars forging elements. Without ears, like a radio tuned to all frequencies, they detected the whispers of beings inhabiting scattered worlds, who surveyed vast expanses of glowing gasses and mapped whirling galaxies dotted with pulsating stars, burning to discover the cause and reason for everything.

  In the universe’s final eons, darkness overtook light. Rogue asteroids shattered worlds. Ancient stars exhausted their nuclear fuel and cooled slowly, starving their planets of life-sustaining energy or ripping themselves to shreds in violent death throes. They incinerated the worlds they had nourished as if euthanizing them against orphanhood in cold, dark space. The most massive stars, exhausted of nuclear fuel and overwhelmed by their own gravity, collapsed in on themselves, crushing together every photon, proton, electron, and quark into black holes. One by one, the stars went out. DNA disintegrated. Galaxies faded.

  Is this how he would spend eternity? How could he be asking such questions? What had happened to total annihilation? Maybe this was just the final moment before he ceased to exist, stretched by a trick of his mind or incomprehensible laws of physics.

  “Zekie?”

  Was this the final flashback? Whose voice was that? Was it someone from his distant past, long forgotten?

  “Zekie, are you there?” His mother was calling, calling as she had day after day as he crunched through snow and ice toward the door of their trailer.

  He breathed. His heart pulsed. His head throbbed. His weight pressed against the floor. He felt small again. A nightmarish screech of sharp steel clawing concrete reverberated around him, followed by voices. “Hold on. Take my hand. Don’t let go.”

  The voices of his friends were tinged with anxiety and desperation as they worked their way through the darkness toward the safety of the service tunnel.

  “I can’t see anything,” said Margaux.

  “Just don’t let go,” said Nate. “Hey, we’re talking normal again. The helium is gone.”

  “It’s over,” said Doc.

  “Are we inside that thing? Are we still here?” asked Cynthia.

  “Mom?” said Zeke.

  “Zeke?” called out Doc. “It worked! Just like old Buddha, eh Schrödinger?”

  In the pitch darkness of the underground chamber, Zeke heard clattering footsteps and anxious voices drifting down from above as Margaux took roll call, and his mother repeated his name through sobs of relief. They were safe.

  “Can someone get us out of here now?” asked Cynthia.

  Chapter 35

  Westview Middle School

  Kneeling in the furrowed field behind the school, Nate clipped a pair of test leads to two wire stalks protruding from a trench in the dirt and snow. “Looks good,” he said. Chuck leaned on his long-handled shovel, while Virgil crouched down to watch the needle swinging on the ohmmeter to ensure that the buried wire had no breaks.

  Zeke swung his backpack off his shoulder and dug inside for what he’d agreed to bring the other boys. “Here’s the new coil you asked for. Tell me again what you guys are doing?”

  “Thermal agriculture—thermoculture,” said Nate. “I think I just made up that word.”

  Virgil stood up, looking proud. “We’re going to make the dirt warm so the seeds will grow.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Zeke nodded. Who would have thought Virgil would get so involved?

  He watched as Nate twisted each of the two wires with the leads coming from the new coil and screwed blue plastic insulator caps over each twisted connection. Chuck shoveled the dirt back into the last few feet of the trench, filling in around the protruding wires, and Virgil patted it down with a stomp of his boots.

  “The underground wires act like both the QuARC’s antenna and the heating element—two in one,” said Nate. “It heats the ground from underneath. It’s a boost for the sun.”

  Doc drove up alongside them on an electric utility ATV. “Nice work, boys. Looks like it’s working. How did you keep the heat from increasing the resistance?”

  “The heat diffuses into the cold ground, so the temperature of the wire never goes up by more than 20 degrees Celsius,” said Nate. “We had tried taking the—”

  “Hey look,” said Chuck. “It’s working.”

  Lines of snow and ice had begun to melt in a pattern woven back and forth across the field. Chuck fist bumped Virgil and Nate simultaneously with each of his big hands.

  “We better get back,” said Virgil. “It’s almost time to go.”

  “Go where?” Zeke sometimes didn’t feel e
ntirely plugged back in to the real world since his fall through the void. Everyone acted weird around him.

  “He means it’s almost time for class,” said Nate.

  “Oh.” Just school. Maybe not so weird after all.

  “Pile on,” said Doc.

  Chuck handed the shovel to Virgil and packed himself into the passenger seat, while Zeke, Virgil, and Nate sat cross-legged on the cargo bed.

  “Hold on tight,” said Doc, with needless caution. He drove not much faster than they could have walked, and Nate and Virgil took turns hopping on and off to jog alongside.

  They stopped at a tent outside the framed outlines of the new school, where the cook stirred a huge pot over a glowing electric heating element. Her two assistants added chopped onions, carrots, and potatoes, along with handfuls of parsley and thyme leaves.

  “That smells amazing,” said Zeke. “When do we eat?”

  Chuck already stood over the pot taking a deep whiff of the savory soup.

  When Doc tried to sneak a taste with one of the big spoons, the cook snatched it away. “Not yet. Show a little patience, boys. Everyone will get their belly-full.”

  Rebuffed, they tromped around to the shed. In place of the old bench seats stood a series of new workbenches, wooden planks supported by sturdy saw horses, brightly lit from hanging lamps. A dozen students were unfurling colorful loops of insulated wire from large spools and winding it into tight, interwoven coils following the pattern Zeke had taught them.

  “What’s this one?” asked Zeke, looking over an unfinished coil on one of the workbenches.

  “That’s mine,” said Nate. “I have an idea for a way to boost the current without making the high-frequency field any bigger—no more random shock!”

  “Nice,” Zeke said with appreciation.

  “Hope you don’t mind,” said Nate apologetically. “It’s still your design. I just made a few adjustments. The thing is—”

  “Nate,” Zeke said, “it’s good.”

  “It’s a clever topology,” said Doc.

  Outside, Principal Fairchild called, “Dr. Freeman? Where are you?” She peered through the screen door. “David?”

  “I’m in here, Gladys,” said Doc.

  She spoke through the closed door. “David, would you mind helping us sort through more of the materials recovered from the old school building? I stopped the crew from disposing of everything before you had a chance to pick out the items that may still be useful, especially in the science and technology classes.”

  “Be right there,” said Doc.

  The boys followed him outside.

  “Boys, would you mind helping with the livestock?” asked Principal Fairchild. “Cynthia can’t convince the cattle to move for her.”

  * * *

  In the barn, Cynthia faced down a plump, black and white Holstein cow. “How am I supposed to clean up this mess if you won’t get out of my way?” she hollered, stamping one of her boots in frustration. The brown slurry on the floor splashed her legs. “Eeeeeeeiiiiiooooouuuuu! Now look what you’ve made me do! Stupid cow!”

  Verne, the cow, was not insulted.

  Nate, Virgil, and Chuck came to her rescue. While Cynthia tried to wipe away the smelly brown splotches with a rag that made things worse, the boys eased the cattle out of their stalls and led them outside to graze where the late August sun had finally melted the snow from patches of tender sweet grass and clover speckled with purple, yellow, and white wildflowers.

  “I bet we can warm up this whole pasture,” said Virgil.

  Chuck stabbed the ground a couple of times with his shovel. “Shouldn’t be too hard,” he said. “A couple of days.”

  Nate pointed over Zeke’s shoulder. “Who’s that?”

  Zeke looked behind him to find Thomas standing about fifty yards away with his hands clasped behind his back, as if waiting patiently. Zeke had known this day was coming. There wasn’t much point in hiding or running, because they always knew where to find him.

  As Zeke approached the black snowcat limousine, Thomas opened the door for him.

  “Time to go for a little ride,” said Thomas.

  No one was inside the vehicle, and Thomas folded himself in after Zeke had scooted across to the opposite side.

  Zeke couldn’t think of anything to say. He had accepted the Chairman’s supplies, and the QuARC had actually worked. The whole thing now belonged to the Chairman—his private property. But Zeke had let it get away from him. If he hadn’t made a mess of the school during that first big test, everything would have been fine. Now the Chairman was probably unhappy that Zeke had given away the secret of the invention he’d invested in.

  Thomas didn’t attempt to explain. He just sat silently in the black leather seat. Zeke didn’t know where they were going, but it felt likely to be the last place he’d ever see.

  They had traveled only about two miles when they pulled up in front of a large, two-story house. It must have just been built, because the ground was churned up and the remaining snow had been melted or buried in the dirt. The house was painted blue with white trim and a dark red shingle roof. A split rail fence enclosed a small yard that hadn’t yet been planted.

  Zeke was a little surprised. Although the house looked nice, it didn’t seem large enough for a rich guy like the Chairman, and it wasn’t protected inside Harmony Village.

  Thomas rose up out of the limo and walked around to open Zeke’s door. He remained silent, pointing the way toward the double front doors.

  The inside of the house was just as nice as the outside, with polished wooden floors and comfortable furniture in the large living area. Zeke stood inside the door until Thomas ushered him in further. To one side, a staircase led to the second floor, and a short passage toward the back appeared to open into a kitchen. Zeke had always imagined this was what a real house looked like. It was warm inside, and Zeke had to unzip his coat. Thomas unbuttoned his long wool overcoat and hung it over his arm.

  They passed through the short corridor into the kitchen, which had bright white cupboards, a stove with four electric burners, and even a refrigerator. His mom entered through the back door, followed by a man, who had his hand on her shoulder. The man was not much taller than Zeke’s mom. He was thin to the point that his clothes hung loosely on his bony frame. He wore glasses and had a wiry brown beard and mustache that mostly his his mouth.

  “Leave her alone,” said Zeke. “It was my fault. Mom had nothing to do with this.”

  No one spoke, not even his mom, who smiled at him. Zeke looked around the room. A round dining table with four chairs sat in front of a bay window overlooking the back yard. His mother’s salt and pepper shakers, with their black and white painted horses, sat on the table beside her little daisy plant in its clay pot.

  “What will happen to us?” asked Zeke.

  “That’s up to you,” said the man. “You’re a smart kid. It looks to me like you can make things happen.”

  Zeke had never seen the Chairman, but he recognized him by his voice.

  “It’s too late,” said Zeke. “Everyone already knows the secret.”

  “It’s just the beginning,” said the Chairman.

  “This is awesome,” came a voice from the front of the house. Zeke heard the hollow wooden footsteps of at least a dozen other people. Then came the voices: Doc, Nate, Virgil, and Chuck, and the rest of the Chairman’s board of directors.

  Thomas stepped aside to let Zeke go back out front.

  Zeke looked around at the small crowd. “Why are all of you here?”

  The Chairman startled Zeke by coming up behind him and placing his hand on Zeke’s shoulder. Chills ran up his spine, and this time not from the cold air.

  But then the Chairman dangled something in front of him: a key on a small chain.

  “What’s this?” Zeke asked. The other students stood in a semicircle around Zeke, the Chairman, and now Zeke’s mom and Thomas.

  “This,” the Chairman said ceremoniously, “is t
he key to your new home.”

  “My home?”

  “For you and your mother,” he clarified.

  “But I blew it.”

  “A happy accident,” said the Chairman.

  Now Zeke was more confused than ever.

  “You may have sacrificed one opportunity, but you’ve created another one, much larger and far more profitable. Look around you.”

  Zeke looked at all his friends and back at his mother. Thomas held up a box covered with buttons and pushed one. Lights in the ceiling of the house came on, filling the room with a warm glow. He pushed another button, and music began to play. Nate rocked back and forth.

  “Electricity needs a purpose, something to power,” said the Chairman. “It won’t be long before we’re making—and more importantly, selling—what people have lived without for the past few decades: cars, toasters, refrigerators, televisions—”

  “Lights,” added Nate.

  “Zeke,” said the Chairman, “you and your invention have brought civilization back from the dead. You, my young partner, are what investors call a rainmaker. You’ve created far more opportunity than I imagined when I agreed to invest in your project.” He moved into the middle of the room. “You and your friends will enjoy a better life because of what you’ve accomplished.”

  He pulled a device from his coat pocket and handed it to Zeke. “If you need anything, call me.”

  The Chairman strode through his board of directors, and they followed him out the door into the dusk. He shrugged off the cold as Thomas opened the limo door for him. He lowered the window and waved good-bye before the limo and four snowmobiles roared away.

  “What is that thing?” asked Virgil, pointing to the device Zeke still clutched in his hand.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s a telephone,” said Nate. “Can I see it?”

  Zeke passed it to him. Nate turned it over. “Not sure how to turn it on.” He flipped open the cover, and the palm-sized device lit up. For a moment, they stood in silence, admiring the colorful pattern on the screen. Nate poked at it until it started beeping.