by Barry Klemm
“So even if we did know what the problem was in there, we do not have the technology to invent a super laser or suchlike device and neutralise the thing. We are never going to be able to identify the cause of the problem nor do anything about it if we could. So we might as well forget it and let nature take its course.”
“So it’s hopeless,” Chrissie groaned.
“Not completely,” Thyssen said, knowing he was playing his last card. “There is the matter of the pilgrims, the linkage, the sleepers. That happens inside our heads and that we can explore. And it has to have something to do with it.”
“Solve the question of the linkage, and you can solve the problem,” Jami supposed.
“Yes. Or maybe it’s the other way around,” Thyssen said, for it occurred to him only as he said it.
“What other way around?” Felicity asked.
“Maybe you pilgrims aren’t the question. Maybe you’re the answer.”
“How do you mean, answer?” Wagner asked. It was almost as if Thyssen had compelled him to ask the question.
“I mean that, either the sleepers and pilgrims are just a meaningless aberration which means there’s nothing we can do and therefore no sense in doing anything, or else there is some underlying purpose to them, whereby we must explore the phenomenon and try and discover how it works and what it is for.”
“Are you suggesting some sort of divine purpose?” Chrissie Rice asked with amused eyes.
“No,” Thyssen said flatly. “I don’t think so, but I don’t know everything, and I’m not prepared to ignore the possibility no matter how strongly I disbelieve it. Which is why you are an essential function in the project, Chrissie. It’s vital that you continue to explore down those roads that my skepticism denies me.”
“Break out the Holy Water,” Brian muttered from the background.
“I mean that no line of thought should be disregarded, no matter how improbable I or any of us think it to be. And you ought to know that better than anyone, Brian Carrick, with your science fiction fantasies.”
Brian flattened against the wall and raised protective hands. “Too true, great white father, too true.”
Thyssen had swivelled to face Brian and there he stayed, folding his arms across his massive chest and continuing to stare Brian down. Brian was, after all, a man who seemed to quit long before he gave up. But Thyssen now spoke in his more general tone.
“You all may have noticed, at the last event, that the focal point moved somewhat, dragged as it were away from the northernmost extremities of Canada across the ice cap to a point in Barents Sea, just above North Cape in Norway. Not a lot of difference as far as the pilgrims were concerned, but it was the presence of the new pilgrims in Malawi that caused it. The addition of all those Californians will drag it further south next time, to a point in the Norwegian Sea, about halfway between Iceland and Scotland. Still a pretty inhospitable spot, I agree.”
“Sure,” Felicity Campbell said in subdued tones. “But since no one ever makes it to the focal point anymore, why does that matter?”
Thyssen dismissed it with a faint shrug. “It would make life a lot easier for you all if you were at the focal point to begin with.”
“North Sea,” Joe Solomon said with a shudder. “No thank you.”
“I agree,” Thyssen said.
“But we can move it somewhere more hospitable,” Thyssen went on. “All we have to do, for instance, is move the Japanese pilgrims inside the circle and, with a slight adjustment, we can drop it right on Ireland. Very nice place, Ireland.”
“To be sure it tis the luvliest of places,” Lorna beamed like a fine Colleen.
“And just exactly how do you propose to move 16,000 Japanese pilgrims inside the circle?” Brian asked with a vague air.
“I was hoping you’d tell me...” Thyssen smiled at him.
“Actually, the Japanese government will be glad to be rid of them,” Brian shrugged. “It might be possible. Where do you want them to go?”
“Brazil, I think, would be best.”
“Brazil?”
“Yes. With the Japanese pilgrims repositioned, they could counterbalance the Buryats, whom we cannot move, on a line which will bisect that between the Californians and Andromeda’s Malawis, the intersection being straight over Ireland. Now, we’ll need to work out the precise location in Brazil that will have that effect but I suspect it to be on the Matto Grasso, a sparsely inhabited region in the south west of the country.”
“And what are we to suppose the Brazilians will think when the Yellow Peril come over the horizon?” Brian wondered.
“That’s the sort of thing we’re here to solve,” Thyssen said lightly. “Joe, I want you to obtain for us a nice big chunk of Brazil.”
“Sure,” Joe said, a bemused smile on his lips but not in his eyes. “How big a chunk?”
“Say, twice the size of this base.”
“Ought to be a cinch,” Joe said, and his eyes twinkled toward Brian as he said it. “Lots of big Ranchos down that way, and for sure some of them are going broke and on the market at a bargain price. Give us plenty of room to move around.”
“I gather you want all this done before the next linkage?” Felicity wondered, her face going vague.
“If possible.”
“With a leg in the air,” Brian said flatly.
“Pushover,” Joe confirmed, equally flatly.
*
After a splendid dinner put together amid an unpromising cacophony of giggles by Lorna, Chrissie and Felicity, they drank wine and told each other exciting stories of their adventures in a broad room of couches and coffee tables. More than once, they remarked upon their closeness as a team, of their remarkable unity, of their deep caring for each of the others. Even in crisis, the resentment of Jami Shastri soon melted and the stiffness of Kevin Wagner dissolved.
“I’ve worked with a lot of teams,” Wagner said at one point. “I’ve never been part of one as harmonious as this outfit.”
“I think you’d find that if any of the other pilgrims were present, you would each feel the same toward them,” Thyssen said to try and shatter the mood.
“Certainly that’s what I feel in the presence of my Italian pilgrims,” Chrissie said thoughtfully.
“But you’re not a pilgrim, Harley,” Andromeda pointed out. “Fee and Jami ain’t either. But we got all them warm snugglies toward you too, no matter how badly you fuck up.”
“Perhaps we stand too closely in your aura,” Felicity said with a smile.
“And maybe we’re just a bunch of folks who would have got along no matter what happened,” Lorna supposed.
“No,” Jami put in firmly. “It’s more than that. I really resent you for what you did, Harley. I still do. But that doesn’t change my admiration for you as a scientist. It just means I no longer think you’re infallible.”
Joe Solomon said. “I’ve always prided myself on my professional detachment from people I’ve worked with. But that’s out of the question in this case. Fuck it all, I—after thirty unblemished years of handling other people’s money without the slightest temptation—and some of my clients were very careless with their trusts and suchlike but I never even contemplated taking advantage of them—and suddenly, I misappropriate millions of dollars for you people, without even thinking about it. I’m still waiting for the first twinge of conscience. In normal circumstances, I dissolve with guilt when I don’t have enough change to tip the taxi driver. This is something truly strange.”
“You gotta face it,” Lorna said. “We all love each other.”
“Yes. And with absolute blind loyalty,” Felicity said. “It’s family stuff. We might fight and squabble over everything, but no misdeed damages the depth of feeling between us.”
“Or combat units,” Wagner put in. “Guys that snarl at each other all day long but would gladly die to protect each other any time. It is a glimpse, I think, of that state of harmony that we will all know in the future.”
; “Or maybe it’s just an excess of Bosons,” Brian Carrick said.
They all groaned, but only because it had become a habit when he said something like that. For at least two of them knew exactly what he meant.
Andromeda Starlight wasn’t one of them. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. Bosons are some kind of kangaroos with an insatiable sexual appetite.”
“No. They’re elementary particles. Quanta,” Brian said. “Right Harley?”
“Right Brian,” Harley grinned. “But perhaps you might demonstrate your inestimable skills by explaining the theory in a way everyone can understand.”
“Oh, please do,” Felicity sighed.
“Sure thing. The elementary particles from which everything in the universe is made, come in all sorts of weird shapes and forms, but the most basic types are bosons and fermions.”
“Named after blokes named Boson and Fermion, I bet,” Lorna chuckled.
“Satyendra Nath Bose, and Enrico Fermi, who helped describe them,” Harley put in. “Carry on, Brian.”
“Bosons are hyperactive dudes, attracted to each other and are the basis of all energy, such as heat and light and gravity. Fermions, mostly electrons, are shy retiring types, avoid contact, forming the rigid structures that everyone calls matter. Originally, everything was bosons. The Big Bang was a godalmighty scattering of bosons, but then the nasty old fermions began the task of converting the boson energy into stodgy old matter. Entropy, the heat death of the universe, is a final victory of fermions over bosons, right Harley?”
“Not the way I would have put it, but I have no argument.”
“Okay. So you need both. Fermions provide substance, bosons movement and ultimately life, since the firing neurones in your brain are bosons, which means that thought and consciousness are bosons—the same stuff that everything was made of before matter began to take over. Our thoughts are the stuff that the universe is made of.”
“You mean we made it all up?” Andromeda gasped.
“No. It made us up. The universe thought itself into existence, and it thought us into existence.”
“And now,” Joe Solomon said. “It seems to be thinking us out of existence again.”
“Would anyone care to explain,” Chrissie said quietly but resoundingly. “The difference between a thinking universe and God?”
“None,” Brian said with a shrug. “Except you waste your time praying and leading an unsinful life because the universe does not give a stuff about us or any of its other creations. And anyway, it’s got enough problems of its own.”
“What sort of problems?” Chrissie wondered—not completely willing to let go of that point.
“Like entropy, for instance.”
“Heat death and Hell sound like pretty much the same place to me.”
“They’re not. At heat death, everything is utterly cold and nothing happens there at all. And we’re all going there, no matter what.”
“I don’t know about that,” Jami interrupted. “It’s never where we are going that’s important. It’s the fact that we are on the way that matters.”
“Yeah,” Wagner said. “Humanity has always had an expansionist way about it, and with no regard at all for the outcomes.”
“After all,” Felicity said. “Whenever we go somewhere new, the first thing we do is try and change it to suit ourselves.”
“And so here we are, on a journey to the end of the universe,” Brian grinned. “And when we get there, the first thing we’ve gonna do is try and stop it from happening.”
One by one, they faded away and drifted off to bed, until only the hardcore drinkers remained, Lorna nodding off on the couch but hanging in, Harley and Brian locked in increasingly speculative and incoherent conversation.
On the couch, Lorna Simmons stirred. “On the subject of all those ever-loving bosons flying around the place, Brian, don’t you have a plane to catch to Japan?”
“Up at sparrow’s fart. No doubt about it. Better get some kip, right away,” Brian stuttered. He started groping around for the door, but then paused, looking back. “And you want all them 16,000 Japanese in Brazil, mate. Just like that.”
“If it’s possible, Brian.”
“She’ll be right, mate. Don’t you worry about it.”
“I appreciate your thoughts on these things, Brian,” Thyssen said quietly. “It does give me things to think about.”
“Piss in the other pocket. That one’s full.”
It took a little time but finally he found his way out of the room.
Lorna uncurled on the couch and braced herself. It was now or never, she knew. Surely he must be drunk, even if he didn’t show it. Certainly, she was properly primed. He turned his head and looked at her quizzically—she searched his face for something faintly resembling a leer but was unrewarded. If there was a demeanour to be observed, it was that of a father looking upon a daughter. She needed to change that fast. But it was Thyssen who spoke first.
“Lorna, I want you to do something for me,” he said.
“Sure. Anything,” she said with a shrug.
“It will be very dangerous,” he said.
“Whatever,” she shrugged again.
“The next event will be in Java and I want you to be there. I want you to place yourself right in the middle of the Zone.”
“Really? Why?”
“Because someone has to do it. A pilgrim. Someone I can be sure of. The others all have important tasks to perform but since we’re now the top news story, the media stuff can manage itself for the moment.”
“Oh I get it. It’s really me who is redundant.”
“No. This is very important.”
“Why?”
“Because we need data. We need to know what happens when a pilgrim gets a double dose.”
Lorna thought about it. In fact she couldn’t see what harm it might do, nor why it mattered. But there was a severity in Harley’s tone that worried her.
“Sure, fine, what’s the problem?” she said blithely.
“It may kill you. Also, depending on the relationship of the Zone and the seismic activity, the earthquakes or volcanoes might get you. You may be out there unconscious for some time—we just have no idea what will happen to you. And we need to know.”
“So I just go there and find a nice soft place to fall and wait for it to happen.”
“It’ll be a little more complicated than that. We’ll have your telemetry fully wired.”
“So you’ll know whether I’m dead or alive before I do.”
“If you must put it like that.”
He sat, leaning forward on the sofa, his hands clasped before him and if he wasn’t wearing a pleading expression, it was at least implied. For a final time she shrugged.
“Okay,” she said. “And now there’s something I want you to do for me.”
“It will be a pleasure,” he smiled.
She smiled back. He truly had no idea how close to the truth he was.
*
Captain Maynard had traded his helmet for a baseball cap with US Navy emblazoned thereon, but otherwise he was still dressed as a fully equipped combat soldier.
“They scattered pretty badly while you were away, Andromeda.”
“Weren’t no alternative, Cap’n,” she said grimly.
They met on this barren hilltop with a commanding view of the surrounding countryside. The thing to do was to make herself as prominent as possible, now that she was back. That meant a lot of standing in the open back of vehicles, choking in the dust, and otherwise positioning herself in prominent places like this, where she could be seen and reported to be seen.
“The flanking units report that they are turning inward. Apparently word of your re-appearance has begun to spread.”
“There been a lot of trouble?”
Maynard shook his head. “No. They’re all happy to keep moving and leave their former lives behind them. And the locals remain so awed that they don’t interfere as our people pass by.”
“And the direction?”
“Just off north.”
“Which takes us where?”
“Into Tanzania. They’ll walk straight into Lake Victoria if they keep going this way.”
They had a map spread out on the bonnet of his jeep. Andromeda had only glanced at it before spying out the surroundings. Still to the left lay the steamy remnants of Lake Nyasa, and otherwise the flatlands reaching to the mountains on the right. Everywhere, in the lightly forested terrain below, she could see evidence of people moving toward her. Somehow she felt the need to explain.
“I’m sorry you got dumped with all this. But it was a big deal.”
“I’m sure it was.” Plainly Maynard was still not happy about it. “What happened?”
“We had a meeting to cut off our leader’s head, but he chopped us off at the knees instead.”
“I guess you’re meaning Professor Thyssen?”
“Yep. When the link occurs, they’ll swing West.”
“That will run us into Lake Tanganyika instead.”
Andromeda groaned and walked over to the map. Maynard had drawn a line to indicate the path the pilgrims had generally followed, from the capital in the south of the country, to the north, almost two hundred miles since the trek began. But the supplies kept flowing, and there was plenty of water. In fact, there was too much water. The long lakes formed natural barricades all the way along the route.