Psychlone

by Greg Bear

  Not if we can help it, Tim. Mr. Thesiger and you are the bloodhounds, but the hunter hasn't showed yet. Wait and see." Thesiger took Tim's hand. The shield was up again and Tim felt safe. But he was still scared. He had been scared now for a month, ever since Lorobu. It was hard to remember what it was like to not be scared. He looked forward to it being over just as he had once looked forward to Christmas. Christmas was four days away.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Still sleepy, Fowler was the first to step out of the van, shielding his eyes against the bright late-morning light. Jacobs followed him, and then the rest. Miss Unamuno was last. She frowned and put her foot on the chewed dirt of the meadow. Silvera and General Machen stood by a staff car at the beginning of the gravel road. Let's go, Burnford said. Machen was about fifty-five years old, Jacobs decideda little younger than himselfwith graying red hair and a scar across one lip which gave him a permanent, dolphinlike grin. He greeted them in a pleasant baritone. Would you all follow me?" Four corrugated metal plates had been thrown over the creek. Their feet made the iron ring dully as they crossed. Fowler hesitated, but Silvera prompted him forward. Jacobs walked beside Machen, trying to take his measure with occasional glances. The road to the cabin was pitted as though great chunks of dirt and gravel had been dug out with shovels. Trees had been clawed bare, branches broken off, leaving pale white trunks. Some had been knocked over, blocking the path. Where the priest had fallen, only a spray-painted white outline remained. The separate circle for the head was grotesque. Fowler turned away and looked at the cars. They had been flattened into lumpy sheets, like stepped-on cans. Piles of gravel and splintered wood were everywhere. The cabin was almost untouched. The only apparent damage was from a tree that had fallen across the rear roof, crunching a portion of the overhang. It's gone, Trumbauer said. No trace at all? Silvera asked. Trumbauer shook his head. How about you, Miss Unamuno?" She shut her eyes and clenched her fists. She opened them and looked around, surprised. Nothing! Where did it go?" Silvera looked at Burnford and nodded. It worked on this one." I'm amazed, Burnford said. I wasn't sure any of the equations were right. Where is it now?" Where's what now? Jacobs asked. You destroyed it? Or just made it go away? Fowler asked. Prohaska stepped up on the porch. Apparently, it's gone for good, Machen said. We dispersed it. The weapon is on its way to Siloam

  Springs, Ohio." Jacobs looked at his list. That's where Tech Sergeant Grimm lived. Why not Dayton?" There's no time. Dayton may be reached by tomorrow evening. We can't transport everything and set it up. Besides, the geography is no good. Too many people." What's the weapon? Fowler asked. Is that what we saw last night?" Machen shook his head. We're mum for now. In a couple of days, you should know as much as you wantmore, probably. You're all under orders not to reveal anything you've seen until the whole project and all related items are declassified." Prohaska's face fell. No story?" Not for at least twenty years, Machen said, smiling grimly. We have a use for all of you, but right now you're just observers and advisors."

  And you're keeping us together for security reasons, Fowler said. I'm almost sorry I called you,

  George." Don't be, Silvera said. With the information we gathered here, and the information from Haverstock, we have a good idea what's been causing all these disasters."

  And what's that? Prohaska asked.

  Again, Machen shook his head. No theories until Siloam Springs. And we aren't keeping you all together. The group will be split. Some of you are going to Dayton, some to Siloam Springs." There's no trace at all, Miss Unamuno reiterated, turning around, hands seeming to grasp at the air.

  The whole valley is empty. What did you do? Her face was drawn and bloodless. No, this is more than curiosity, she said, voice trembling. What happened here?" Jacobs felt the edge of her fear and turned to Trumbauer. Arnie, isn't there anything? A residue, a trail, something to show it's somewhere else, but not here?" Trumbauer took Miss Unamuno's hand and tried to calm her. Nothing, Franklin, he said, staring squint-eyed at Silvera and Machen. It's as if it never existed."

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Jacobs sat apart from the others on the aircraft, elbow on the armrest and chin in hand, musing. He had very little scientific expertiseonly what he had gained in the service, decades agoand the handicap frustrated him. He wasn't ignorant, but he had no way of interpreting Burnford's diagram or the equations on it. To make matters more difficult, he had only seen it for a few seconds. Burnford had been exuberant on the return from the cabin. Fowler and Prohaska had toasted to the success of the missionFowler less enthusiastic than the reporter, but not unpleased. Behind him, Miss Unamuno and Trumbauer were reading or napping. The worry Miss Unamuno had felt was now communicated to Jacobs, but he wasn't certain why. Burnford was on his way to Dayton with Fowler, Prohaska and Silvera. Williams had been reassignedhe was no longer on the project. Jacobs didn't know whether the physicist could have explained, or been allowed to explain more fully, but he would have given several fortunes to have certain haunting suspicions laid to rest. Could a new secret weapon have been designed and put to use in less than two weeks? He doubted it. Something already in the arsenalbut still secretwas a better answer. He racked his memory, trying to draw up some clue of what it could be. Burnford had treated the elemental as a field of some sort. Jacobs had recognized the field equations from his brief stint as a radar technician. What, then, would disperse an electromagnetic field? (If, indeed, Burnford had been talking about electromagnetism.) Super magnets, bolts of static electricity? Had a huge Van de Graaff generator been used? He squeezed his temples and looked up to see General Machen standing beside him. Mind if I sit? Machen asked. Not at all. Jacobs slid over. I'd like to apologize, and offer our thanks, Machen began, looking at the seat in front of him. I'm not used to having civilian contractors on a project like this. Then again, I've never been on a project like Psychlone this." We're hardly contractors, Jacobs said. Just concerned citizens." Yes. I apologize for treating you like mushrooms" Eh?" Keeping you in the dark and feeding you bullshit. Machen chuckled. I'm not the Commander-in-Chief of this operation. I'd do things a little differentlynot much, perhaps, but a little. And I'm thanking you for putting up with what appear to be blinders and heavy earmuffs." Yes, Jacobs said. Well, we hardly have the complete picture, do we?" You've been a great help to us. I still find it hard accepting the fact that we're using psychics and experts in occult phenomena. I'm a practical man; I never have put much credence in the paranormal. Now it's everyday talk."

  Can you tell me when it became everyday talk as far as this project is concerned?" I can. About a week after Lorobu was destroyed. We still keep alternate theorieswe even talked about UFOs and space plagues when it became apparent that no secret weapons had been used, no CBW stockpiles had ruptured, and no subversive group could be blamed. It was too sophisticated, too holistic, if you see what I mean." I'm not sure I do." Too integrated and interrelated. When I was first called in, about four days after the incident, I began having nightmares. Haven't had them since I was a kid. Started taking sleeping pills for the first time in my life. I don't think I'd have had that reaction for anything political or technological. It had to be something else." So you settled on the supernatural." Should have heard the protests and seen the faces of the joint chiefs and everyone else involved. He shook his head, the permanent smile turning the gesture into mocking humor. Oddly, the President was the hardest to convince." And after you had the Haverstock University results, you called George Burnford in." Fowler and the reporter were a bonus. Without them, we'd have to have tried our solution without a test."

  So everyone now accepts the existence of demons. What about ghosts?" I'm reluctant to go into details." Do you think the psychlone He spelled it"that's my name for whatever it wasdo you think it's a demon, too?" Machen shook his head, smiling on purpose this time. No, Mr. Jacobs. May I call you Franklin?" Certainly." No, we knew it had to be something more closely related to humanity. The list of names you handed over to us, the contacts with t
he inhabitants of the townsthat had to be more than coincidence." And?" To confirm that, we're going to put you and your friends under the flightpath of the ... psychlone. We have a house just outside Dayton which should be right under a straight-line path from Haverstock. I don't think we'll be in any danger but once we arrive, any of you can back out." You must have others helping you, then."

  Yes. One other. Two, if you count the only survivor from Lorobu." Jacobs looked out the window at the bright, filamented clouds streaming past below. When is it scheduled to pass over the house?"

  At eleven p.m. this evening. It will pass over Dayton ten hours later."

  Assuming it's traveling atabout two or three miles an hour? Jacobs asked. Machen nodded. And assuming it takes a straight-line path." We have reasons for assuming both. Other psychics have been contacted or have reported to us." But it only hits the target towns." Where the people on your list used to live." The POWs."

  Psychlone Machen's false smile faded. Yes, he said stiffly. From World War Two. Hiroshima and Nagasaki." You're very knowledgeable, Franklin." Yes. He wasn't about to get Beckett in trouble. I remember the papers a few months ago. It used to be classified information" The complete list still is." The list Miss Unamuno received." No, Machen said. Her list isn't complete. It's missing several hundred names." All prisoners of war, captured toward the end of the war. All killed during the atomic bombing of the

  Japanese cities."

  Believe it or not, some American POWs survived, Machen said. They're on the project now, those that are still alive and healthy." If the psychlone isn't a demon, and seems to consist of human souls, how did it form? Jacobs asked. We don't know." Jacobs thought of Burnford's field equations again. But you plan to treat it the same way you treated the elemental." We do, Machen said. So you assume it has many of the same characteristics." More than assume. We have data from the Haverstock observatory that confirms it. There are many points of similarity." And differences?" Some." Jacobs frowned with concentration. He didn't want to voice half-considered ideas. The weapon used on the elemental disrupts an electromagnetic field ... disperses it."

  Psychlone It's more complicated than that, but that's the idea, yes." Would an atom bomb have the same effect?" Machen pursed his lips. It might." How many people were directly under the explosions in Hiroshima and Nagasaki?" I'm not sure. Maybe fifteen or twenty thousand, all told." Jacobs felt sick. The idea was clear now. The human soul is probably not very different from the elemental in structure ... basic structure. A field, partly oriented in our universe, immortal in a waymost natural processes cannot affect it, but can only affect its grip on a material body. When death releases the soul it slips away" Franklin" Please listen. This has been in my head for some time, but it hasn't come together until now. Am I right, that the fireball of an atomic explosion produces forces more severe than any known in nature?" Yes. I suppose astronomical events like supernovas are more severe, but on the whole, yes." Then thousands of people who died in the two atom-bombed cities may have vanished completely, forever. Not just dead in the natural sense, but wiped cleantheir souls erased, dispersed. Or perhaps worsefor usnot destroyed completely. Just mangled. Portions of the souls gone, others surviving ... incomplete. In eternal agony." Machen's ruddy skin paled. I don't think He stopped himself and stood up. God would not allow such a thing, he said, his voice soft. Mr. Jacobs, you are theorizing way over our heads." Does it scandalize you, General? Jacobs said, his voice biting. It horrifies me. The very possibility is more than I ever thought I'd face."

  You're saying we have the ability to destroy an immortal soul. That's unthinkable, impossible. It goes against the very Word, against the guarantees of religion." Perhaps it does. But if you can destroy a demon, why not a human soul? His voice cracked. Why not, General? In the core of a nuclear explosion. The perfect hell for dismantling the psyche, stretching it beyond any return. We can verify it."

  Machen began to back away.

  Somebody in the psychlone has warned usthe POWs, perhaps. They gave us their names in geographic order, and now we have a defense. Their souls must not have been destroyed, or mangled ... they weren't killed by the fireballs, but by the after-effects. Killed and taken captive by the dead, dismembered Japanese." Machen shook his head. Is it true? They survived the fireball?" This is insane, Jacobs." I wish it were, Jacobs said. He was beginning to shiver. He fell back into his seat and shook his head.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  The house was on an isolated tract of farmland, scattered around with trees, a gray old barn, and the rusted hulks of an old harvester and a tractor. Tim stood by the window of the upper room, under a peaked roof, looking down on a cat stalking birds in the grassy yard. It was ideal. He would love living in a place like this, even being a farmer, though it was obvious the farm hadn't paid out recently. Thesiger was downstairs, talking with Simons and Davies. Even up here, Tim could feel the old man's presence. It was like being surrounded by friends. Tim's maternal grandfather had once described saints as men who see right through you, because they have more than one pair of eyes, but they don't judge. That was Thesiger. Tim didn't know if that meant Thesiger was a saint; perhaps it didn't matter. Two cars and a Jeep drove into the yard and parked by a dry duckpond. Tim watched for a few minutes as three civilians and four people in uniforms got out and talked. They headed for the front door and he turned away to go downstairs. * * * * Jacobs surveyed the house critically. It was pleasant enough, but he didn't like something about it. He cocked an eyebrow at Trumbauer, but Trumbauer didn't catch the unasked question. General Machen walked beside Miss Unamuno, carrying her baggage. Three soldiers with holstered pistols stayed by the cars; Jacobs and Trumbauer carried small suitcases. A black man met them at the latched screen door, recognized Machen, and greeted them pleasantly, introducing himself as Volt Simons. They stepped into the entryway. Trumbauer jerked and looked into the hall leading to the kitchen. A thin, white-haired man with a hawkish face stood there, smiling at them. Psychlone For a moment Jacobs thought he was looking at Bertrand Russell; then the illusion faded. He almost recognized the face. The man walked forward and offered his hand to Miss Unamuno, who was closest. I'm Edward Thesiger, he said. You're Janet UnamunoMiss Unamuno?" She nodded, staring at him steadily. Jacobs held out his hand. I'm very pleased to meet you, he said. I thought you were dead." No, just isolated for many years, Thesiger said. I've had a chance to read some of your books, though."

  I'm honored." Trumbauer stood awkwardly to one side. The look on his face as Thesiger shook hands with him was awestruck. He smiled and said nothing. Thesiger returned the smile and motioned them into the living room.

  A boy stood at the foot of a flight of stairs. Thesiger introduced the new people and said, This is my colleague, Timothy Townsend. Tim has met our adversary before and is proving quite useful." They sat on the couch and chairs in the living room and Simons offered to bring in coffee and soft drinks. Jacobs asked for a ginger ale, if any was to be had.

  Machen took a chair from the dining room and straddled it. From here in, all we're going to do is sit and watch and take orders from you folks, he said. We'll have trucks outside in a few hours, but they won't bother us here." Where is the rest of the team? Thesiger asked. Heading for Dayton now." And when will it reach us?" We estimate eleven p.m." We are not the only team of psychics being utilized, I understand." No, Machen said. We have four teams between here and Haverstock, and five more teams spread around the straight-line path. They're all in radio contact with us." The radio doesn't work when it's here, Tim said.

  Psychlone The general smiled. We have other means of getting messages through." Mr. Thesiger is your center of operations? Jacobs asked. He is." You're brighter than I gave you credit for." Machen nodded. None of you has a complete overview of Silent Night, any more than the soldier in the field sees a complete battle strategy."

  Simons brought in a tray of glasses and Jacobs sipped his ginger ale appreciatively. Why is Timothy here?" Because he wanted
to be, Thesiger said. He's a very capable young man." So he is, Jacobs said. Shall we start planning for tonight?"

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  We're putting ten volunteers into the center of Dayton, Silvera said. We have trucks and trailers ready. The trailers are rigged with padded cells and they'll be assigned one to a cell. Machines will record their reactions." They're guinea pigs, Fowler said. And they volunteered. Very brave of them, I'll admit. For the rest of us, there's a station being set up just outside the postulated attack zone. We'd like all of you to help us record and analyze the subjects reactions. He paced back and forth across the small hotel room. Burnford shook his head. I'm not a doctor." No, but your expertise is just as important." When is the evacuation starting? Fowler asked. Tonight at five o'clock. The target area is just outside a chemical plant. We can stage a mock release of poisonous gases and clear a large section of the city for at least twenty-four hours. We'll be well outside the danger zone." Psychlone You might as well tell the volunteers to commit suicide, Fowler said. Our program is well-planned, Silvera countered, looking at him sharply. They won't be able to hurt themselves. We need the information badly or we wouldn't risk them." Fowler was unconvinced. Why do you need me? I can understand GeorgeI can see he's central to some aspect of your projectbut me?" You've experienced a similar attack. You can provide essential insight." And at any rate, you won't let me go anyplace for a few more days." You can understand that, I hope, Silvera said. Fowler shrugged. If it's a choice of sitting here for another week or doing something useful, I'll go with the team. He had to give them that impression now; he hoped he sounded sincere. Fine, Silvera said. We'll drive to the outpost in an hour. Mr. Burnford?" I have a family. I don't think this is going to help any of us much. I'll have to think about it." Not in the target, remember. Only observing." We don't know how powerful the force is now. We won't know until after tonight. If it doesn't pick up ... doesn't kill any more people, we might firmly have established its power. Then again, maybe not." You're coming with us? Fowler asked. Silvera nodded. We're all very brave and noble, Prohaska said. Tell me if I'm stupid, but I want to be in there. He put his cigarette out in a glass ashtray. You're stupid, Fowler said. You don't have to go in with us, Mr. Fowler, Silvera reiterated. Listen Fowler started to say, but cut himself off. If he told them why he had to leaveto get back to