With familiarity, Riph thrust his wet paws onto Nick’s lap and tried to lick his face. It immediately changed the genre from mystery and suspense to a comedy of apologies, as Hilgor, who finally arrived at the scene, attempted to offer some help in cleaning the mud from the victim’s clothes, simultaneously producing muted threats in Riph’s direction. Unexpectedly, Nick laughed and patted the dog’s neck.
“I never saw a dog when I was growing up,” he said, comfortably taking Riph by the collar and guiding him off the bench. “I always wanted one, though.”
He paused for a second and added, “I knew that you would eventually be here, but I’m glad that you came again so quickly. Please allow me to convince you that I pose no threat. I’m very sorry that you are probably understandably disquieted by my actions. I’m ready to answer any question you have, for as long as you want.”
An image of the slowly rotating object flashed into Hilgor’s mind, and the remains of the common sense that were feebly trying to stop him disappeared in the cool morning air.
“We can talk at my apartment,” he said. “Riph, let’s go home.”
Hilgor whistled to the dog and headed to the park exit ignoring Riph’s reproaching glance. Nick followed them, staying close behind. Soon they reached the main “alley,” where a slightly wider path was divided down the middle by a strip of low shrubs. Riph suddenly stalled, obsessively sniffing something on the curbside. Hilgor slowed down, waiting. After a couple of impatient shouts from his master, Riph reluctantly tore himself from the engaging spot and moved on. Hilgor picked up speed and suddenly realized that Nick was waiting ahead of them, having already turned in the right direction at the fork of the path. Hilgor stopped several steps away and looked at Nick suspiciously.
“Yes, I know where you live. I’ve been tracking you,” said Nick.
Hilgor promptly thought that he might regret getting into this adventure after all.
“Is it connected to my work?” he asked, not getting any closer.
Nick nodded hesitantly as if not completely sure about his answer.
An automatic cleaning machine rolled out from behind a sharp curve of the path. It moved at full speed on the opposite lane, vacuuming small debris from the ground. At the same time, Riph spotted a sleepy meerkat blinking at them from the other side. The dog gave out a yelp and darted in the animal’s direction.
“In a sense, it’s related …” Nick stopped in mid-sentence. Hilgor followed his gaze and saw that Riph had jumped over the bush median and was on a direct line of impact with the cleaning machine.
Nick looked straight at the approaching vehicle.
“Kir, stop it,” he said quickly.
The brakes screeched and the cleaning contraption came to a halt less than a step short of hitting the dog.
Hilgor exhaled and stared at Nick.
“What was that?” for some reason he was whispering.
“You should put his leash on,” said Nick ignoring the question. “These things,” he nodded toward the stopped machine, “have a bad reaction time. And your friend is not trustworthy.”
They both looked at Riph. He was enthusiastically digging at the burrow in which the meerkat had discreetly retreated during the commotion.
“Riph, come back!” Hilgor’s voice was threatening, but not perfectly steady.
Riph recognized Hilgor’s tone and immediately left the meerkat in peace and trotted back with a look of insincere remorse.
Hilgor clipped the leash to Riph’s collar.
“Let’s go,” he said to Nick, “and thank you.” They didn’t exchange another word until they walked into his apartment.
Hilgor’s apartment, provided by the Scientific Guild, was unusually luxurious for Y-3; spacious and lit by natural light coming in through the large windows. The decor was up to Hilgor, however, and the resulting picture was somewhat incoherent.
The room reflected some spastic attempts to create an eye-pleasing environment. Hilgor didn’t suffer from a lack of funds, but he had a short attention span for anything beyond his work; the furniture was limited to a minimal number of high-end objects. Some of the rather fancy-looking chairs around the elegant dining table were still wrapped in their transportation plastic sheets. A layer of dust betrayed the fact that they had been in this state for quite some time.
“Would you be interested in breakfast?” he asked awkwardly. “Coffee?”
Nick nodded and sat on one of the unpacked chairs. He looked around with curiosity while Hilgor rummaged in the pantry searching for something edible. Riph jumped onto a super elegant white couch in the middle of the room, sighed contently and closed his eyes. Finally, Hilgor brought out a plate of stale protein cakes and two cups of synthetic coffee and went back to the kitchen. Seizing this window of opportunity, Riph quietly appeared near the table and in one smooth bolt snatched a piece of food just as Hilgor returned to the room. The dog’s front paw brushed against one of the cups and pushed it off the edge. Hilgor closed his eyes, expecting the sound of broken glass followed by the cry of a frightened dog, but nothing happened. When he looked again, he saw Nick holding the intact cup, still full of coffee and apparently caught the moment after it slid off the table. Hilgor stared speechlessly.
“It’s genetic,” said Nick, “many generations of perfecting human DNA material.”
Hilgor admitted that no amount of exercise and training could have achieved this efficiency of movement. And Nick’s face, with its clean bone structure, slightly prominent chin, elongated deep brown eyes and firm outline of the mouth, was another sign of impressive genetic craftsmanship.
And then there was the mysterious file, and saving Riph in the park.
“You aren’t from here, or not from now,” said Hilgor with complete conviction.
“Excellent analytical reasoning, but I wouldn’t have expected any less from you.” Nick put the cup on the table. “I’ll answer your questions, as promised. But first, I need to run a test. We can do it the other way around, but depending on the result, your questions may change. It just will be more … efficient.”
“What sort of test?” Hilgor immediately assumed a disappointed expression, “An intelligence test?”
Nick shook his head, “No,” he said, “the score does correlate with some aspects of intelligence, as well as with other traits, Hilgor. But, in essence, it measures something we don’t even fully understand ourselves.”
He searched inside the inner pocket of his coat, pulled out a thin oblong box, put it on the table and slid the smooth lid open. On the black velvet background, Hilgor saw something that looked like a silver face mask.
“It doesn’t take long, and there are only a few mildly unpleasant sensations,” Nick hesitated for a moment and added, “not physically unpleasant, anyway.”
“You said ‘intelligence,’” Hilgor was staring at an invisible point on the table, “does it correlate with ‘some aspects’ of creativity, too?”
“The terminology around these topics is extremely sensitive, Hilgor. Let’s say it measures your level of being ‘drastically different’ mentally from the majority of the population. In your case, it obviously has to do with your ability to develop new mathematical concepts.”
Hilgor was going to ask him something else, but the words got stuck in his throat. Right in front of him, finally, was a chance to know the answer to the question that secretly tortured him every day of his life. A sober thought that the objectivity of this test was questionable passed through his mind, but everything about Nick was so fundamentally improbable that all kinds of things could be possible.
“How do I put this on?”
“Just like a pair of goggles,” answered Nick, “I’ll run a program that will induce a mild hypnotic state, sort of like daydreaming. The program will generate some interactive sequences. I don’t know what they will be; they vary from person to per
son. It doesn’t matter what you think or do. The sensors will capture your raw brain responses.”
Hilgor slowly rotated the silver device in his hands as if trying to convince himself it was safe.
Finally, he took a deep breath and put it on.
Nick got up from the chair, walked across the room and stopped in front of the window. His eyes hardened as he looked at Hilgor with a new, detached expression and said, “Kir, start the assessment program.”
Then the room disappeared from Hilgor’s view and he now stood in a large crowd of people looking up at a whimsical arrangement of huge glass sculptures. Today was a big day, the opening ceremony. The intricate interweaving crystal shapes towered over him, reaching to the sky, reflecting sunlight in their subtle bends, scattering sparks on the admiring faces below. As the last scaffolding melted in the air, he felt a startling anticipation of disaster and then in a flash recognized a fatal flaw in the way the glass pieces were balanced. The audience burst into applause. It took a second before the waterfall of shattering glass started cascading down in slow motion. The picture froze and disappeared.
He was then sitting in his study looking at his computer screen. Apparently he had just been interrupted by something because he couldn’t remember what he was doing right before this. He refocused on the screen and read the last sentence. It started coming back – he was in the middle of his personal project, one of those that his unit refused to pursue, and he was searching for the last missing component, a certain limiting condition. As usual, it took several minutes to reach the point of concentration when the study, the computer screen and the noise outside started fade into the background. He was approaching the boundaries of his other world, a space devoid of any physical characteristics except for some vague notion of density. He was steadily increasing his focus, forcing matter to condense into the object of his search, with only a small portion of his consciousness still dimly aware of the warmth of the table surface and the sound of dripping water outside. The picture froze and disappeared.
Almost blinded by the speed, he twisted the control bar of the air capsule just in time so as not to miss a sharp turn in the road. He had only one chance and almost no time left to reach the closing gates of a fortress looming in the distance. He knew that the elusive truth he had chased all his life was locked in there, inside the walls. He couldn’t remember who had told him, and why he believed it, but it was too late to doubt it now. The timer was counting the remaining seconds; time was running out. He hit the accelerator hard and crashed into the shutting barriers at full speed. For a split second before everything went black, he felt an almost unbearable happiness at having caught a glimpse of the promised vision. It was worth the chase and even the crash.
The darkness disappeared abruptly. Hilgor was back in his apartment. He gasped and tore off the mask, driving away the sound of mangled metal.
“What happened?” he asked, his head still reeling.
Nick was looking out the window, hands in his pockets, his back to Hilgor. He seemed relaxed and even slightly bored.
He turned, and Hilgor forgot about the test. The sharpness of retreating pain in Nick’s eyes was impossible to miss.
“Nick, are you … alright?”
“Yes, why?” Nick asked, immediately assuming his usual demeanor. “Now we can get to the point. I hope you’ll handle it well – imagination was a big part of what we just tested. Here’s the deal … my planet is called Earth,” he paused briefly, carefully watching Hilgor, “and Y-3 used to be our colony, centuries ago.”
“I see,” said Hilgor calmly, “it adds up. We suspected that much. Except … we’ve been searching and have never found anyone. We assumed that the original civilization was extinct.”
“No,” said Nick, “it’s doing just fine. But it cut off communication with Y-3, in both directions. And here’s the most important part, Hilgor. You’re invited to come to Earth. Your … let’s call it talent, is exceptional.”
Hilgor felt a sudden pressure in his chest, and then his heart turned several erratic somersaults, and the sound of triumphal music exploded in his head. His love wasn’t unrequited. His mathematics loved him back and it was his ultimate award, victory and vindication. He knew that he wouldn’t have the strength to doubt the test. He wanted to trust Nick.
A sudden sting of fear sobered him.
“Invited?” he asked and instinctively leaned back.
Nick raised his hands, “I am not planning to kidnap you,” he said with a smile.
Hilgor glanced towards the door, but didn’t move.
Nick nodded, “You’re right, I could, theoretically. And you wouldn’t be able to stop me,” his tone was effortlessly affable.
They looked at each other in silence. Then Hilgor exhaled and let go of the chair that he had been clutching. Nick wasn’t lying, and it was reassuring.
“Hilgor, applying any force is against the rules. It’s up to you if you want to come with me or not. I’m only allowed to present you the offer. It’s not a very hard choice, in my opinion. I don’t know what would keep you in this post-apocalyptic hell in the first place. Earth is a very old civilization. We have things you can’t even dream about. Medicine, comfort – you name it. But, Hilgor, there’s something else,” Nick paused, and all lightness disappeared from his voice, “something you’ll find interesting. On Earth you can work by yourself on anything you want. Nobody will tell you what to do.”
It was a calculated move, and Hilgor recognized it for what it was. But a sudden amazing, overpowering feeling flooded his head drowning out all signals of caution. He searched for a word, and it came to him easily because it was something that he had longed for all his life. It was the feeling of freedom. Nick was offering him a future in which the unit, the majority, his helplessness and humiliation would be gone forever. A future in which Y-3 would be gone forever … but he had no idea what Earth was like. He didn’t know what he would be getting himself into though.
He looked at Nick, who was watching him from his position at the window, and admitted to himself that he knew nothing about Nick’s motives either. “And what’s in it for you?” he asked.
“I get paid if you go with me,” answered Nick.
Well, that was simple, thought Hilgor.
“Why did your planet cut off communication? And … why are you back? What is it that you’ll want from me at the end of the day?”
Nick shook his head, “There are answers to all of your questions, Hilgor. But it’s a very long story. Right now, I suggest you get some rest. The test you just took is neurologically taxing, and this is all a lot to handle in one sitting. Get some sleep. Then put this on,” he nodded towards the mask still lying on the table. “It works in an interactive mode and will give you all of the information you seek.” He began walking toward the door, “We’ll meet again whenever you’re ready. Believe me, it’s the most efficient way. I would prefer a shortcut myself,” he said in an unexpected bitter tone.
“Wait!” Hilgor hurriedly stood up pushing away his chair, “How do we get in touch?”
“Just ask it to contact me,” Nick gestured toward the mask. “Or post a note to your internal files and I’ll be here.”
“You can access my private data?”
“How do you think I found you, with your efficiency equalizer?”
Before leaving, he stopped next to Riph, leaned over and gently patted the dog’s silky coat.
He had already opened the door when Hilgor asked, “Nick, who is Kir?”
Nick turned back, “My personal fairy – you’ll find out,” he said and left.
Hilgor watched the door close and took the mask from the table. He was about to put it on, but the room immediately started swimming. He tried to focus, but his head responded with a dull pain. Nick was right; he just simply couldn’t take in anything else right now. He needed a break. A short break. It wou
ld be more … efficient.
Hilgor dropped the mask back on the table and collapsed onto the couch.
He was caught inside a glistening metallic net, hanging over a gray abyss, helpless and exposed. A dark shadow slowly appeared from the depths and wrapped its tentacles around his head. He screamed and woke up.
Riph stood next to the couch watching him perplexed.
“I’m fine. Sorry, I scared you,” said Hilgor touching the dog’s head. Riph sighed and settled down on the floor.
It was early evening and shades from individual objects had already disappeared in the homogeneous dimness, but Hilgor continued to lay with eyes open, not turning on the lights.
The unpleasant dream was annoyingly clinging to his memory. He had been too emotional recently, he told himself, and that wasn’t going to help. He had to calm down. He focused and started recounting the latest events, from the first meeting in the park to Nick’s departure. Everything seemed to fit; Nick came from another planet, more advanced scientifically and technologically; Hilgor passed some kind of test, proving his worth; Nick invited Hilgor to leave Y-3. However bizarre, it seemed logical.
But he knew the pieces that nicely clicked together didn’t matter nearly as much as the ones that stuck out. Pages of good arguments were worth nothing against a single counterexample. And in this case, the discord had something to do with Nick. It was true, Nick’s motives seemed simple – he was a hired headhunter. But something about him didn’t match that picture; namely, that glimpse of extreme emotions on Nick’s face. Of course, there was money on the table and probably a lot of it, but it wasn’t just that. Something was off; Nick wasn’t telling him the whole story. Hilgor’s imagination immediately invoked a sinister scenario: Nick was using Hilgor as a pawn in some other game. And in that game, Nick’s stakes were high.
Why did he care, Hilgor asked himself, about Nick’s motives? Because nothing about Earth, except for the math file, was verifiable inside his own system of reference; even the test could have been a sham that exploited his secret vanity. The only way to be sure of anything was to trust Nick. But Hilgor didn’t trust him, and that brought them to a stalemate.
Fire of the Dark Triad Page 14