by Peter Watts
“Then don’t try.”
It’s such a stupid thing to say, so completely unexpected, that I have no answer for it.
She draws me to my feet. “It’s just not that important, Keith. We study retinal sensitivity in salamanders. Nobody cares. Why should they? Why should we?”
“You know it’s more than that, Janet! It’s quantum neurology, it’s the whole nature of consciousness, it’s—”
“It’s really kind of pathetic, you know.” Her smile is so gentle, her voice so kind, that it takes a moment for me to actually realize what she’s saying. “You can change a photon here and there, so you tell yourself you’ve got some sort of control over things. But you don’t. None of us do. It all just got too complicated, it’s all just physics—”
My hand is stinging. There’s a sudden white spot, the size of my palm, on the side of Janet’s face. It flushes red as I watch.
She touches her cheek. “It’s okay, Keith. I know how you feel. I know how everything feels. We’re so tired of swimming upstream all the time...”
I see her, walking on air.
“You need to get out of here,” I say, talking over the image.
“You should really spend some time on campus, I could put you up until you get your bearings—”
“Shhhhh.” She puts a finger to my lips, guides me along the hall. “I’ll be fine, Keith. And so will you. Believe me. This is all for the best.”
She reaches past me and opens the door.
“I love you,” I blurt out.
She smiles at that, as though she understands. “Goodbye, Keith.”
She leaves me there and turns back down the hall. I can see part of her living room from where I stand, I can see her turn and face the window. The firelight beyond paints her face like a martyr’s.
She never stops smiling. Five minutes go by. Ten. Perhaps she doesn’t realize I’m still here, perhaps she’s forgotten me already.
At last, when I finally turn to leave, she speaks. I look back, but her eyes are still focused on distant wreckage, and her words are not meant for me.
“...what rough beast...” is what I think she says, and other words too faint to make out.
* * *
When the news hits the department I try, unsuccessfully, to stay out of sight. They don’t know any next of kin, so they inflict their feigned sympathy on me. It seems she was popular. I never knew that. Colleagues and competitors pat me on the back as though Janet and I were lovers. Sometimes it happens, they say, as though imparting some new insight. Not your fault. I endure their commiseration as long as I can, then tell them I want to be alone. This, at least, they think they understand; and now, my knuckles stinging from a sudden collision of flesh and glass, now I’m free. I dive into the eyes of my microscope, escaping down, down into the real world.
I used to be so much better than everyone. I spent so much time down here, nose pressed against the quantum interface, embracing uncertainties that would drive most people insane. But I’m not at ease down here. I never was. I’m simply more terrified of the world outside.
Things happen out there, and can’t be taken back. Janet is gone, forever. I’ll never see her again. That wouldn’t happen down here. Down here nothing is impossible. Janet is alive as well as dead; I made a difference, and didn’t; parents make babies and monsters and both and neither. Everything that can be, is. Down here, riding the probability wave, my options stay open forever.
As long as I keep my eyes closed.
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Document creation date: 01 December 2011
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