“Subject X. He appeared after all, it seems.”
“Yes,” Marie answered, a blank expression stealing over her face as she quelled a momentary quiver. She glanced back up at the screen.
“We’ve seen the footage—what remains of it. Electromagnetic interference rendered much of it irretrievable.”
Marie nodded. “We could do nothing once things started up. We discovered—as many people here predicted—that we could not control the Machine. And once the signal we had prepared in advance failed…” Her brow creased as she thought about how to continue, and her gaze drifted back to the floor. After a brief moment, she slowly looked back up at them. “It seemed to take control of her.”
“Of Connor.”
“Yes. It took her into it; she rose straight off the deck and floated into the center of the vortex.”
“Then what happened?” the man said, pressing her further.
“Once she reached the lip of the vortex, she appeared to cross over some kind of window…or precipice…and disappeared into it.” Marie squinted as she recalled the event. When it happened, the only emotion she had felt was a momentary sense of shock. Now, as she recalled it properly for the first time, she realized the memory also evoked a feeling of intense wonderment. Her gaze drifted away from the screen again. The Committee member who had been addressing her paused and swiped through documents on the tablet in front of him, on the portion of the screen that wasn’t blurred. Marie composed herself and refocused on the man’s blurry image.
He sighed now, and through the blurred section of the screen, his head appeared to turn upward once more. “And then subject X interceded.”
She nodded. “Yes. Subject X showed up. Quite quickly. We do have accurate data on his arrival. He appears to have entered the planet’s atmosphere from just over the northern tip of Antarctica, and then crossed from there, over the Southern Ocean and across the Atlantic, in a matter of minutes.” She trembled now, just minutely, her body quivering as she was asked to recall one of the most unusual things she had ever experienced in her life. Once again, her gaze drifted to her left. Her right eyebrow rose. “When he arrived, he lifted the entire fleet of vessels out of the water.” She stopped speaking again and her upper lip quivered.
“Are you in shock, Miss Donaldson?” This came from the woman sitting two seats over from the man who had been addressing her throughout most of this interrogation.
Marie’s brow tightened as she brought her gaze to the blurred image of the woman’s face, her own expression now filled with vitriol. “Wouldn’t you be?” A terse silence filled the room. Marie shook her head. “And no, I’m not in shock,” she continued, her voice dripping with equal, though concealed, malice; she had come to hate these people. “I’ve undergone extensive training for that exact reason: to be able to absorb events of massive psionic magnitude without going into shock. I thought you knew that.” She snapped her last words.
“I do. I was just checking.”
A surge of anger rose inside Marie and she lifted her head toward the woman, straightening her posture. The image of the giant globs of magma falling out of the portal entered her mind for a split second. At any other time, she would have been forced to stop what she was doing and take a deep breath—to try to absorb the event. However, her training was fully online and at the forefront of her mind. “If you already knew that, why did you ask?” she said, uncaring, her voice dripping with disdain.
Another brief silence followed before she heard the first man on the far left speak again.
“By what means could this…person—subject X—possibly lift four vessels of that mass out of the ocean, Miss Donaldson?” He checked his digital device once again. “Uh, over two hundred thousand gross metric tons, approximately.”
“Well, isn’t the answer obvious? He was channeling massive amounts of psionic energy—so much that our detection equipment was unable to register it.” She frowned. “His power levels were outside all known contexts. No Ethereal—at least none we know of on Earth—has ever demonstrated that kind of ability. Not Trey Rousseau, not Daniel, the Ethereal from San Francisco…” She paused for a moment. “And certainly not Jane Connor,” she continued, shaking her head. “Perhaps the power he was focusing is beyond our present level of comprehension.”
A different woman, one in a purple suit and sitting in the second last chair on the right, chimed in. “I’m sorry, but that’s just impossible. According to the specifications of the vessels, as my colleague has already pointed out…again, we’re talking hundreds of thousands of gross tons. I just don’t believe that this is what happened.”
“Neither do I,” said the man sitting next to her.
Marie shook her head. “Well, I don’t know what else to tell you because that’s the truth. He lifted those ships right out of the water and then dropped them back down into it as though he were lifting pebbles. I can attest to it, because…” She tilted her head in a daring, mocking gesture. “As you well know, I was on the lead ship, coordinating the operation.” She glanced around at them. Knowing they would have no direct response to that, she considered what she would say next. “He seemed to be protecting us.”
“Protecting you from what?” asked the man who was coordinating the session.
“Well, as you know,” she said thoughtfully, flicking her wrist outward, “we were in way over our heads from the very start. Once the signal was activated and the Machine assembled itself, it became impossible to predict the outcome. We didn’t account for this. We couldn’t have…and nobody warned us to account for this. It was supposed to be a test—we were to activate the signal, raise the device, and report back our sensor readings and any other findings. However, things went out of control much more quickly than we could react to them. At one point, and I believe you have seen the footage of this, the portal opened onto what seemed like a flowing pool of magma. It’s something I have deduced was some kind of primordial lake.”
“I agree,” said the woman in the purple dress. Through the blurred image, Marie saw evidence that the woman was nodding, which surprised her. The woman shifted position, seeming to become more interested. “But the question is, where? On Earth, or somewhere else?”
“We’ve sent drones back into the ocean to bring up samples of the rock that formed once the magma hit the water.” This came from the first man. “We should have them in the next twenty-four hours. Analysis will be complete within two days.”
Marie nodded. “Well, that sounds fine.” Then, after a moment, she continued with her description of what had happened. “So these giant globs of magma—some bigger than houses—were dropping into the ocean. If we hadn’t already pulled back by that point, they would have destroyed us. We would have been dead instantly. The gas alone would have burned anyone standing on the deck.”
“Much of our data has been lost,” the first man continued. “We had seventy percent of the footage up until the arrival of subject X, at which point much of the information became corrupt and…now seems irretrievable.”
“His name was Max, actually.” Marie looked at them as what felt like static built up in the room around her. She knew somehow that she had interjected with a comment that was heading into treacherous territory.
“We have no data to support the idea that that was his name,” the man on the far right said.
Although the sound of his voice was discordant, Marie detected an unexpected authority underneath it, and her eyes darted in his direction. Could he be the person in charge? This man had never spoken before, and he had appeared in only two of these briefings. Marie had always assumed that the first man, who always initiated these “conversations,” was in charge. But now, as she heard the other man’s voice, that theory was thrown aside. Not only did she realize that this was not the case, she also got the distinct impression that this other individual could well be at the very top of the Committee’s hierarchy. She desperately wished that she could see his face.
Things had
become tenser since the incident in the Atlantic—worrying, even. It wasn’t just a feeling. People at the primary control facility rarely looked up from their digital devices as they passed through the stark white hallways; they were terrified, and it occurred to Marie that half of them were likely planning exit strategies or had already done so. Not that it mattered. If the Committee wanted to find anyone who deserted, it probably had the means and power to do so. The same wasn’t the case for her, she knew, and the smallest trace of a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. She subdued it quickly.
Sighing, she said, “Well, I’m giving you my official testimony right here and now. I asked Morris what his name was, and it showed up on every screen in the room in large lettering. It seems this particular group of Ethereals had some kind of contact with him prior to the Atlantic event.” There was another pause in the room as they seemed to absorb this. Then, suddenly, all the screens went almost completely blank; all Marie could see was a rough outline of the people, as though they were now behind thick, frosted glass. This had happened once before, during one of the many discussions she had had with them before departing on the mission involving the Atlantic Object. Despite the darkened screens, they remained, which was her indication that the debriefing (interrogation) was not yet complete.
The moment the strange glass-like effect covered the screens, Marie’s shoulders sank. Taking a deep breath, she hoped they weren’t secretly watching her as her veneer fell. She took several more breaths and glanced around the room. Her mind began to race. The event had indeed been traumatic, but she had been trained to deal with trauma quickly and efficiently. She also had access to new medications that quickly eradicated the mind’s tendency to return to traumatic events, which, in her position, may have proved necessary. Being forced to recall these details was unexpectedly stressful, though she was sure she was doing a good job hiding this fact from them. She doubted they knew just how much she had been affected by what had happened. She knew—and was known for—her confidence and strength, but the results of the Atlantic event fell so far outside her expectations that she now found herself struggling mildly to process the incident. She frowned as she glanced into the far corner of the room, and a realization stole over her. It was why she was so interested in seeing the man’s face—the one who appeared rarely and had spoken now for only the first time. She took a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes widened as the realization of what was happening came to her. Her allegiances were shifting.
She continued taking deep, even breaths in the otherwise stark and silent room, her eyes open wide and staring into the corner to the right below and beyond the row of large monitors. How could such a thing have happened? She had little time to ruminate on that now, though, for somehow she anticipated their return, and the armor quickly went back up around her—a thick, unbreakable shield that had been with her for most of her professional life. Her posture straightened, her gaze became razor-sharp, and her jaw grew taut. She stared at the screens as, at once, the glass returned to normal on all of them. Her intuition had proven accurate.
The man on the left spoke first, but Marie noticed in the far corner of her eye that the chair on which the authoritative man had been sitting was now empty—he was gone. As she listened to the first man on the left drone on, she immediately suspected that this mysterious figure had given instructions and then left.
“We have new orders for you, Miss Donaldson.”
She raised her head as she looked at his screen.
“We want you to apprehend subject X.”
Marie didn’t say anything. She recoiled and looked at the blurred image of her interrogator’s face, her brow furrowing and her expression filled with incredulity. She blinked a few times and squinted. “You can’t be serious,” she said, her voice somehow coming through strong and clear. There was no immediate response. She glanced around the room as though looking for someone to validate the ridiculousness of this request. “How, exactly?” she asked, raising her arms in a gesture of futility.
“We’re deploying a new unit to New York, to the control center. You haven’t encountered anything like them before. And we’re aware of a new technology on which your technician—Chris—has been working.”
“Yes. The explosive—the grenade. But that wouldn’t be nearly enough to—”
“You use them, in combination with this new unit, and you have a good chance.” The man glanced at his tablet once again. “As you now know, our data is incomplete, but we do have some initial data that suggests this being is a biological organism. In other words…he is human.”
Marie considered this and raised her left eyebrow, realizing he was right; Max (if that was indeed his name) was human.
“Although he may have extreme psionic ability, his access to that power is determined—presumably—by the same mechanics as the Ethereals. He is governed by the same laws of this world as are the rest of us.”
Marie interjected. “That’s hardly accurate to say. I don’t think—”
“He is just as susceptible to such a weapon as the Ethereals would be.”
“Could be. He could be just as susceptible,” Marie said, correcting the man. There was a pause again, and this time, Marie let it run on for a moment. “He may just as well not be. Not only that, the weapons Chris created are something he now wishes he could uncreate. The grenades produce extreme disruption to psionic activity.” Marie looked between each of their screens as she spoke. “It could damage Ethereals. If in close proximity, the kind of neurogenic shock these devices induce could prove fatal.”
“That’s a risk we’re willing to take. If they happen to be in close proximity to him when the weapons are used and they suffer minor impairment, so be it. We also want Lucas involved in the operation.”
Marie glared at them. Her mind reeled at the suggestion. “What are you talking about?”
“You heard us,” said the woman in the purple suit. “Lucas will still be your subordinate, but he’ll be heading out into the field to capture this man.”
Marie struggled to remain in her chair; she wanted to stand up and smash the glass covering the monitors in front of her. Her blood pulsed in her veins as a mixture of emotions—anger, frustration, and rage—surged through her. “Forgive me, but that seems like a gross mistake. Did you not read my report? The man tried to kill Jane Connor in an extremely violent fashion.” She paused and her brow crossed. “As far as I recall, that wasn’t on our to-do list. Not only that, he wasn’t successful; Jane knocked him out. The second he woke up, he took one look at what was happening and boarded an escape pod long before I gave the order to evacuate. He’s crazed, he’s cowardly, and he has clearly developed some kind of vendetta against Connor.”
“We are aware of this, but we believe what you say can work to our advantage.”
Marie wanted to probe the issue further, but she knew when it was time to stop asking questions. She decided to accept what they were telling her, knowing there could be an ulterior motive behind these orders. Instead, she changed the subject. “May I ask, what exactly do you hope to accomplish by capturing this man?”
The first man spoke again. “The entire locus of our operation has changed, Miss Donaldson. The Atlantic Object is gone. It seems we were never going to have control of it in the first place—according to your report, as powerful as it was, it was collapsing within moments of its activation by use of the artificial signal. Only Jane’s psychokinetic power signature caused the Machine to work to its full capacity. It seems that it was like some kind of code—something we were never truly going to understand. Not only that, according to all sensor data, the Machine is gone now. As of this time, this man is of far greater interest to us.”
This is ridiculous, Marie thought, though she kept her face as straight as possible. You can’t just put him in a bottle…unless you sedate him. Somehow, she suspected that this man, Max, was well beyond such a rudimentary containment method. If he could levitate entire ships,
surely no amount of tranquilizing agent would affect him.
“And how do you plan to contain him, if we do manage to capture him?”
“We have some ideas. I’m sure you’re aware that we have resources and personnel working for us all around the globe. The primary control center is not where our research begins and ends, Miss Donaldson.”
She nodded and allowed a moment before speaking. “I had presumed that, yes.”
“I’m sure you’ve read the scant documentation referring to beings of his nature? There are also reference to such entities in the book First—”
“First Visions,” she said, both cutting him off and finishing his sentence. “Yes, I’ve read it on a number of occasions. Interesting how a digital copy of the book was never made.” Her brow creased as she thought of this. For the first time, she suspected something unusual about that simple fact. It was almost unheard of for a book to be published during that period with no digital copy available. Had the Committee censored that information too? Had it somehow blocked the digital version from spreading to slow its release? “It’s good material,” she continued, “not light reading, but well put. What does that have to do with him, though?”
There was a pause. Through the darkened, frosted glass, Marie was sure she saw the members glance at each other.
“It’s likely,” the man replied, “that this individual is one of the beings to whom the young child—the subject of that book—was referring.”
Marie absorbed this information as the Committee remained in silence. The man who had coordinated most of the conversation once again began swiping through documents on a tablet in front of him.
“These are your orders, then,” he said with a new, stern voice. “Use any and all resources and personnel to find out about this man and apprehend him using the unit we are deploying to the control center. Failing that, apprehend Jane.”
“Why?” she asked, a hint of incredulity—and disdain—creeping into her voice.
The Crystal Tower Page 7