The Null Prophecy

by Michael Guillen

  Or would it be another scolding?

  “Okay, we need to talk,” Allie said, drawing near to the bed.

  She looked beautiful, as always, despite the bruises and bandages. That was one good thing coming out of the disaster: Hero’s impregnable hull had protected her and him from the CME. The injuries she’d received—the minor burns to her face, the sprained wrist, and the broken leg—came after the ejection, the result of her landing in a tree and falling out of it.

  “Look, Allie, I know what you’re going to say. You’ve been saying it to me all week.”

  She pointed an accusing crutch at him. “Yeah, well then when are you going to get your bum out of this bed and start living again?”

  “When I’m good and ready.”

  She snorted. “You need to confront your fears, Calder, or they’ll cripple you for life. Like I’ve told you, there are plenty of people waiting to welcome you like a hero. The president, for one. Ticker tape parade and all.”

  He rolled over in bed, turning his back to her. “I don’t want a parade, for god sakes; it’s obscene to even think it. People died because of me. I even killed my own daughter’s best friend! Forget it, Allie, no!”

  “Oh, here we go again. Calder, for the umpteenth time, you didn’t kill those people—the CME did. Their own decisions did. With all due respect, had Dirk stayed with Sara he’d still be alive. I told you once before, you can’t take all the blame and you can’t take all the credit. The world doesn’t revolve around you—you still don’t get that.”

  No, he thought, it was she who still didn’t get it. It was all about him—and his blasted black cloud.

  Curse me!

  He turned around and glowered at Allie. “Say whatever you want, it was Hero—my Hero—that created the holes. Without the holes, the CME wouldn’t have been so damaging.”

  Her eyes widened. “Calder, listen to me! There’s more to heaven and earth than Hero, than the broken world we’ve created for ourselves and that is now out of control. Sure, Hero didn’t work out like you expected. But she’s not all bad. And she’s not all your fault.”

  “But I invented her!”

  She leaned in on her crutches. “And who invented you, Calder? Escúchame, hombre. Beyond Hero, beyond even the scientific imagination, is an invisible reality every bit as real as the virtual energy fields inside the quantum vacuum. I believe that. Yes, we have free will—just like when you manually steered Hero through the Suez. But in the end, Calder, we operate within a bigger reality. Things happen that are beyond our control, for reasons only known to God. Do you understand?”

  Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah—religious gibberish.

  He hoisted himself up on an elbow. “Oh, so you’re saying God wanted this to happen?”

  She rolled her eyes. “No! I’m saying we aren’t entirely masters of our own destiny. There are forces we unleash through our ignorance, through our hubris—even through our good intentions—that influence the ultimate outcomes of our choices, of our behavior; forces only God fully understands.”

  He settled back onto his pillow. “Look, Allie, spare me the sermon, okay? All I know is the world is one screwed up place and I just made it worse. End of story.”

  She shook her head and threw up her hands. “Okay, hombre, you win. Go ahead and lie here hiding out and sulking all you want. But I gotta go. Carlos is flying in to visit me; we’re having lunch in Lolo’s room.”

  “Great. Say hi to them for me,” he muttered, turning his face away from her.

  “Sure.”

  He noticed obliquely she was staring at him.

  “Another thing—I’m flying out tomorrow with Carlos. Heading back to Los Angeles to see my family—thank God they all survived. After that, I’m on sick leave for a few weeks and Sara has invited me to visit her in Australia. I’ve accepted.”

  What?

  He watched dumbly as she turned on her heel and hopscotched on crutches to the door. “You’re welcome to join us,” she said just before exiting, “if you want.”

  Without looking back, Allie opened the door and shambled into the hallway. Sara was chatting with the security guards assigned to protect Calder from reporters and hotheads gunning for him. On seeing her, Sara broke away and approached her.

  “So? What did he say?”

  “The most stubborn man I ever met.” Allie, leaning on her crutches, put an arm around the teenager and smiled weakly. “Most brilliant one too.”

  “So are you going through with it? Should we?”

  She nodded. “It’s our best chance of getting him to face reality.”

  “Allie!”

  She turned. Dallan was striding toward them.

  “Morning, Brother.” she said when he reached them. “You look rested. Holding up okay?”

  “Yeah, we just finished breakfast and now I’m out for my morning exercise. Lolo’s getting a rub down.”

  Shortly following the aborted CME, police found her sister on the Mount of Olives and brought her to the hospital. Dallan flew to Jerusalem immediately upon hearing the news.

  During the past three days, he’d not left Lolo’s bedside. It really did appear to Allie the change of heart he experienced in the Arctic was genuine. Anyway, she was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt—for Lolo’s sake, if for no other reason.

  “How’s she feeling?” Allie said. “Have they taken her off the sedatives?”

  He screwed his lips and shook his head. “No. She still believes she saw Jesus. No one’s told her it was actually Dr. Sinclair parachuting in. Video of it is all over the Internet, but we’re keeping her from seeing it. At least until the doctors feel she’s stable enough.”

  “Yeah, she was telling me all about it yesterday, although she still can’t talk very well because of the medication. Poor thing. She’s gonna be disappointed when she finds out.”

  “Anyway, I’ve got some big news.”

  Allie stiffened. “Yeah?”

  “I’m officially putting off the divorce—at least until Lolo is lucid enough for us to discuss things. I’m hoping we can make it work. I’ve done a lot of growing up this past week.”

  She stared at him. He looked like a different man somehow—above all, happy.

  “Dallan, that’s wonderful!” She leaned in and pecked him on the cheek. “Love isn’t something you just throw away when things go wrong. It’s worth fighting for. I’m going to be praying for the two of you.”

  He smiled. “Thanks, Allie, that means a lot.” He added, “I hear Carlos is coming. How’s the family doing?

  Not only had her family made it through the ordeal, her mom was now more lucid than before, as though the magnetic storm actually helped her condition. The doctors said it was a case of spontaneous remission, rare but not unheard of; her dad was calling it a miracle. Allie didn’t disagree.

  The family’s church took a hit when the fuse box overloaded. It sparked a fire on the kitchen side of the building, burning a hole in the roof. But the structure overall escaped damage completely.

  “Fine, fine,” she said. “Except Carlos is complaining he’s gained five pounds from all the food leftover because of the shortened CME. ‘Shame to let all those tamales and tacos go to waste,’ he said—you know him.”

  Dallan laughed. “Yeah, and I know those tamales too; how good they are. I don’t blame him.”

  “The hermanos are all set to pitch in on the repairs, so it shouldn’t be long before the church is back to normal. I told Carlos it’ll be a great way for him to work off the extra pounds.”

  Dallan laughed again, then turned to Sara. “How’s your dad doing?”

  She frowned. “Depends on what part of him you’re asking about. Physically he’s healing fine, but—anyway, if you get a chance, stop by and say hi. He can definitely use some cheering up.”

  FRIDAY, MAY 5 (10:06 A.M. CENTRAL EUROPEAN SUMMER TIME)

  POOR CLARES’ SACRED HEART CONVENT; SEVILLE, SPAIN

  Mother Yolanda opened her e
yes and saw the stone-faced sisters and children massed around her bed, crammed shoulder to shoulder inside her small cell. She smiled feebly. “Well . . .” She stopped to cough. “Either I am in heaven. Or the next best thing.”

  Everyone cheered.

  “Welcome back!” Sister Theresa said, her eyes red and puffy.

  “What have I missed? Where have I been?”

  “You’ve been with us here the whole time, but unconscious. The doctor, all of us, we have not left your side for a moment. We’ve taken turns keeping you company.”

  They all chimed in at once to explain everything that had transpired—how, for protection, Sister Theresa wet herself down before rushing out to rescue Mother; how the magnetic storm was a very scary thing for the kids, who nevertheless were brave and didn’t cry; how God spared the church buildings; and on and on.

  The rapid-fire accounts were abruptly interrupted by a strong, clear voice issuing from the antique shortwave radio. All heads turned in unison to look at it.

  “Mateo 19:14, this is Rising Son. Are you there?”

  Mother Yolanda pointed anxiously at the radio. “Please, someone help me up.”

  Everyone made a move to help and got in each other’s way. They paused and laughed about it.

  “Allow me,” Sister Theresa said, extending a helping hand.

  A small voice from the very back cried out, “Me, too, please!”

  The crowd parted to make way for Marte, whose little body was heavily bandaged. Later she would learn the boy escaped death by managing to crawl inside the playground’s little wooden fortress.

  “Mateo 19:14, this is Rising Son. Please answer.”

  The children helped her across the room and finally eased her into the chair in front of her beloved radio.

  She took hold of the microphone. “Yes, Rising Son, this is Mateo 19:14. How are you, my dear sister? How’s the convent? Did you make it through the storm all right?”

  “Yes,” came the cheery reply. “People all over Japan are already busy returning things to normal. It will be some time before everything is fixed, but even the whales are no longer stranding themselves, thanks be to God. And how are you, Mother Abbess? The community has been praying for your recovery ever since receiving news about your distress.”

  “The Lord is faithful, Sister. I am so old now there is not much left to damage that time hasn’t already taken care of.” She chuckled.

  “And the orphanage? Did it survive all right? Will you need any help to rebuild?”

  “It was a miracle, Sister! The kids were just telling me. Right when the storm was about to really attack, it disappeared. The church was spared. And a good thing, too, because now we’re able to take in children orphaned by the storm.”

  The small cell was filled with Mary Pius’s hearty laughter. “The enemy should know better than to tangle with you, Yolanda.”

  Mother Yolanda smiled. Then, feeling enormously grateful for her situation, she looked around the room, taking in the faces of the women and boys and girls who were her familia.

  At last she spoke into the microphone again. “Yes, Sister. You would think by now he had learned his lesson. When he messes with the Poor Clares and our work, he messes with God.”

  CHAPTER 53

  HOPE

  TUESDAY, MAY 9 (8:02 A.M. CENTRAL AUSTRALIAN STANDARD TIME)

  BEAGLE GULF, AUSTRALIA

  Calder, Sara, and Allie were nearing the massive research ship when Eva, Pitsy, and the crew came into view. They were standing next to the gangplank. Allie leap-frogged toward them as fast as the crutches could take her.

  She’d seen Eva briefly while in Los Angeles but this was their first assignment together since Project Joshua—although calling it an assignment was a stretch. Technically, she was on sick leave. But when Stu discovered she was going to Australia to watch a baby whale—a survivor of the CME—be returned to the wild, he insisted on turning it into an inspiring human interest story, symbolic of the world struggling to return to normal. He never missed a beat.

  Eva sprang toward her with open arms. “Girlfriend!”

  Her producer looked like her old self. She survived the CME unscathed because Calder’s lab proved to be as impregnable as Hero’s hull.

  “Chica!” Allie cried out, leaning forward on her crutches and extending her arms.

  They hugged long and hard before disengaging.

  “How’s ol’ Stuey?” Allie said.

  “Like always—tough as shoe leather. He sends his love, thanks you for doing this.”

  Eva told her he’d taken her advice and high-tailed it into the basement just before impact.

  “He’s already counting the money the network’s going to make off your special. He wants to talk to you about giving you your own show.”

  Normally, Allie would be ecstatic. But at that moment her unexpected good fortune felt too much like the exploitation of a worldwide tragedy.

  “Great, let’s go.”

  The two started up the gangplank, Pitsy and the crew following right behind with the equipment.

  “I did get some bad news from Shanghai, though,” Eva said. “Zhaohui Tang was killed. Shanghai was close to the Nagasaki hole, you know.”

  Allie stopped. “Oh, no, how? What happened?”

  “Apparently, she was in her mom’s kitchen. The mom went to get a glass of water but Tang told her to stop and pushed her away. Right then, a bolt of electricity came shooting out of the spout.”

  Allie winced. “Ay, no!”

  “Yeah, Tang took the hit. Was killed instantly.”

  Sara ran up to them. “Allie, c’mon, this way!”

  Sara led her to the ship’s portside and introduced Lulu, who was cradled in a canvas sling held up by steel cables controlled by an electric hoist. The animal appeared calm. A deckhand was keeping her skin moist with ladlesful of seawater.

  “Hey, Lulu,” Allie cooed, stroking the whale’s shiny black flanks. “I feel like I know you, your mama’s talked so much about you.”

  Calder strode up and laid a gentle hand on Lulu. “Your big day, huh, little girl? Back to the ocean.”

  The ship’s horn gave Allie a start. A moment later the engines roared to life and the ship pulled away from the dock.

  She turned to Calder. “Calder, I’ll be right back.”

  She set off and quickly found Eva testing the equipment with Pitsy and the crew.

  “Oye, chica. I need a moment alone with Calder. Do you mind if—?”

  Eva held up her hand. “Go. I’ve got it covered.”

  She hopscotched back to Calder and they both went to the other side of the ship, settling onto a wooden bench along the railing.

  “I’m really glad you decided to come along,” she said, fighting a case of nerves.

  “Me too.”

  He made a move to take her hand but she drew it away.

  “Calder, there’s something I need to tell you. I’ve been thinking and praying a lot about it since the CME.”

  “Allie, if it’s—”

  “The problem is we’re worlds apart when it comes to certain things, and not just God. It’s also my work. I know you don’t enjoy being around the media—although, like it or not, you’re going to have to put up with it for a while.”

  She waited for Calder to say something. But he was looking out to sea and gave no indication of wishing to speak.

  “I love you, Calder. I really do.”

  He turned to look at her, his face a somber mask.

  “But,” she added, “we’re what the Bible calls unevenly yoked.”

  He frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “It means we see things differently and our behaviors reflect it, especially in times of crisis.”

  “What are you saying, exactly?”

  “It’s eating you alive that your work hasn’t panned out the way you expected. Believe me, I wish it would’ve turned out differently too. The idea of a clean, limitless energy source is awesome. But the bigg
est difference between you and me is I allow for the possibility that something good can result even from the terrible way things turned out, crazy as it sounds.”

  Calder noticeably stiffened. “Good? Good? Don’t even go there!”

  She feared this would happen—Calder’s fierce defensiveness in matters even remotely smacking of a spiritual perspective.

  “Calder, in God’s economy our failing to accomplish whatever we set out to do, no matter how high-minded or well-intentioned, doesn’t necessarily spell failure in the grand scheme of things. There’s a storyline playing out in the universe, an appointment with destiny, that can be really scary—even cataclysmic—but is ultimately more majestic, more beautiful, more meaningful than anything any of us can possibly imagine.” She paused. “But I don’t want to argue with you anymore, Calder. You’re entitled to your beliefs. I respect them, even though I can’t go along with them.”

  Calder stood up. She had the impression he was formulating a response, but he remained silent. She waited, while he paced.

  “Okay, you win,” he said at last, stopping and looking down at her. “Tell me what’s good about my research being a threat to world safety. Tell me what’s good about why I’ll probably never be able to show my face in public again. And neither will Sara, all because her old man screwed up royally.”

  He plopped down on the bench, leaned forward with elbows on knees, and rubbed his hands roughly across his face.

  She waited a few moments and then said, “You’ve heard of the null result, right?”

  He turned and scowled at her. “What?”

  “The null result.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then you know it refers to a certain kind of experimental result that’s way different from the one everyone was expecting. The null result seems catastrophic at first, but ends up leading to something worthwhile, even spectacular—more spectacular than anyone ever imagined. Like the Michelson-Morley experiment. Right?”

  Allie cited the nineteenth-century experiment because it yielded a null result that trashed long-held axioms in classical physics—a seemingly major calamity. In the end, the unanticipated result led to a new, breathtaking worldview that included Einstein’s special theory of relativity.