by Tom Holt
It flew in a lazy half-circle; and although from his viewpoint it seemed to take a long time to trace its course against the blue background, once he’d taken relativity and all that stuff into account, he figured that the pilot was taking a hell of a risk banking and turning so steeply at such high speed; if he carried on like that, he’d rip his plane’s wings off. But on it flew, describing an even tighter circle, followed by a loop and a dip and what was presumably something along the lines of an Immelman turn. Theo felt his jaw drop open. Even in a jet fighter, you’d be pulling so much G-force doing that, you’d black out. In a 747 –
He looked at the vapour trail. It was writing.
Just looking at it made him feel sick, but it was unmistakably writing; the first big loop was a capital C, followed by a small o, leading into an n; and now the lunatic was throwing his plane into another tight circle followed by a slingshot, to form the tail of a g. Skywriting, for crying out loud.
It was unbearable to watch, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. The letters continued to form; faster now, so God only knew what speed the plane was making. An r, an a, a t, a u; Congratulations.
Theo staggered backwards until he felt the trunk of the tree against his back; he slid down it and landed in a heap, sitting awkwardly on his left leg. Sure enough, the plane carried on tracing out Congratulations in white vapour against the relentlessly blue sky.
His first thought was, it’s got to be the Nobel people. Somehow they’ve found out I’ve solved the Doomsday equation, and this is their way of telling me I just made the shortlist. Tempting though the hypothesis was, however, it didn’t quite jive with what he knew about the Nobel Committee, who were serious, rather humourless folk, not given to flamboyant gestures. Besides, the plane was still busily writing – on your. No earthly use hypothesising in the absence of hard data. He leaned his head back against the tree and watched. And, because it was decidedly warm, and the tree was surprisingly comfortable, and the distant hum of the aeroplane had a certain soothing quality –
He woke up. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but it was long enough for the plane to have covered at least a third of the sky with neat, perfectly spaced and fully justified white lettering. Which said –
Congratulations on your purchase of the revolutionary new VGI YouSpace hand-held portable pocket universe containment module, the ultimate in wish-fulfilment reality technology.
Ever been told that you live in a world of your own? Now you can do just that, with YouSpace. Completely real, absolutely genuine, no annoying Virtual Reality gloves and goggles; lovingly tailored to meet your dreams and aspirations by the expert design team at VGI Parallel Universes Inc.
YouSpace: a full-sized alternative reality small enough to carry in your coat pocket, big enough to hold an infinite number of galaxies (NB galaxies not included), entirely self-contained, with its own multiphasic timeline (so that you can spend forty years there in your lunch hour and still have time for lunch), accessed via the VGI XPX5000 E-Z-Port (TM), guaranteed for a lifetime and absolutely safe. All for $49.95*.
He tore his eyes away from the main text and found the footnote, in much smaller letters, hovering over a distant rocky outcrop;
* Electromagnetic containment field sold separately; typically, basic VGI ZX7677 model retails at $ 8.8 bn; terms and conditions apply.
There’s always something, he thought, and looked back at the main text.
YouSpace comes bundled with five default universes plus entry into the VGI Clubhouse (TM) shared universe (for social networking); your YouSpace unit can also accommodate up to 16 custom universes hand-crafted to your exact specifications by our design team. Although VGI makes every effort to ensure that its products are safe to use, it accepts no responsibility for the vicissitudes of fate, M-Space fluctuations or errors caused by careless or slipshod design. Very occasionally, universes may intersect and participants may find themselves in someone else’s fantasy; in which case, they are urged to make their way as quickly as possible to the VGI shared universe, where company representatives will make the necessary arrangements to get them home.
VGI likewise can accept no responsibility for mishaps caused by the use of unlicensed software or the criminal activities of universe hackers. When purchasing additional universes for your YouSpace module, make sure you buy only licensed VGI products, and report all infringements, unlicensed copies and unauthorised intrusions to the company immediately.
YouSpace. You’ve got the whole world in your hand.
While he’d been reading, the airliner had flown straight over his head and was now busily annotating the sky behind the beech tree. He got up, walked round to the other side of the tree and read –
WARNING: The alternative realities accessed via your YouSpace unit are real and therefore potentially lethal environments. Caution should be taken to avoid edged weapons, firearms, orcs, giants, dragons, soldiers, mysterious one-eyed strangers, falling from a great height, diseases, deep water, fast-moving vehicles and animals, carnivores, bogs, quicksands, high-voltage electric currents, thermonuclear explosions, starvation, dehydration, jealous spouses, star-crossed love, political upheavals, earthquakes, mudslides, lava flows, tidal waves, snakes, bears, wolves, various species of insect, pitfalls, landmines, divine retribution, poison, obesity, alcohol, narcotics, old age, royal disfavour, assassination, envy, malice, evil, poetic justice, inflammable materials, lightning, unjust or corrupt legal systems, grief, longing, suicidal tendencies, sharks, crocodiles, blunt instruments, falling trees, collapsing masonry, rope bridges over deep chasms, direct impact from asteroids or other similar extraterrestrial bodies, ice ages, global warming, curses, witchcraft and entropy, all of which can cause severe injury or death. For detailed information on these and other hazards, consult literature available from manufacturer.
He stared at the white letters until they started to grow fuzzy and soft-edged. You missed out thin ice, he thought, not to mention killer jellyfish. His neck was sore from craning his head back, and the thought of sitting quietly in his room or behind the nice desk in Reception filled him with sweet longing. He looked round for a doorway, or a control panel, but there was nothing as far as the eye could see except ripening wheat.
There was that faint droning again. The plane was back. Instinctively he turned to face the only remaining panel of uninscribed sky. Sure enough –
INSTRUCTIONS FOR USE:
1 Input user code, password and your unique 77-digit PIN and product licence number
2 Set all NUM defaults to 0 before selecting PKP outlet port
3 Ensure RET definitions checkboxes are clear and all bouncers are disabled
4 Follow the instructions in the sky
Ah, he thought bitterly, I hadn’t realised it was a Microsoft product. But the plane was still moving –
4 Alternatively, bypass start-up protocols
Definitely a Microsoft product –
5 For further assistance, shout Help
So he did that. Nothing happened. The plane had flown away, nobody came and there was no sound to be heard except the gentle tweeting of a songbird in the branches above his head. He slumped back down against the tree trunk and buried his head in his hands.
Nothing. Still nobody. The bird carried on singing.
After about twenty seconds, he lifted his head. The bird was –
“… And once you’ve done that, you can go home. Got that? Fine.”
It was birdsong, but he could understand it. He jumped up, just in time to see a small brown bird fluttering out of the topmost branch of the tree.
“Hey,” he yelled, “wait, stop, some back!”
The bird flew on, then banked, turned, spread its wings, glided, flapped twice and pitched on a twig above his head. “Well?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t listening.”
“Fine.”
“Will you please,” Theo said, “just say all that again?”
Pause. “All of it?”
“Yes. Please.”
Three seconds’ silence. “This time you’ll listen.”
“Yes. I promise.”
“All right. Ready?”
“Yes.”
“This is your last chance,” the bird said sternly. “Really, I’m only supposed to say it once.”
“I really am very sorry, and it’s extremely kind of you to—”
“Yes, right, fine. OK, here we go. The most important thing you need to know is—”
Directly overhead, there was a rushing noise. A fast-moving shadow covered his face and a great dark shape burst into view, sailing through the air and vanishing behind the interwoven branches of the tree. Theo saw huge outstretched wings, talons, a beak like a meat hook and two perfectly round yellow eyes. There was a whacking sound, like a bat hitting a ball, and a sprinkle of small feathers was floating in the air like sycamore seeds, twirling as they drifted slowly downwards. With two beats of its absurdly broad wings, the eagle dragged itself out of its dive and launched itself upwards, a feathery bundle like a shuttlecock crumpled in its left claw.
“Hey!” Theo yelled. “Come back, I haven’t—” Too late. The eagle was already no more than a T-shaped silhouette against the blue sky. A drifting feather brushed his nose, and he sneezed.
For a moment he stood quite still, frozen and stunned. Then he realised that his legs weren’t capable of supporting him any more, and he folded at the knees and dropped to the ground.
Say what you like about Microsoft (and he did; oh, he did) but even their worst enemies couldn’t claim that their key functions were prone to being snatched in mid-operation by questing hawks. He groaned, and brushed the feather away from his face. It stuck to his finger, and, as he struggled to remove it, he noticed that the red speckles of blood spattered on the feather’s gossamer veins spelled out tiny words, which somehow came into focus and became legible as he stared at them –
Access to Help is restricted to registered users only. To register, input user code, password and your unique 77-digit PIN and product licence number and follow the instructions in the sky.
On the other hand, he thought, why not hawks? If they could do malignant paperclips, they could conjure up hawks if they wanted to. But no. For one thing, the animation was too good.
“Help!” he yelled, lifted his head and watched the skies anxiously. Nothing.
So this was Pieter van Goyen’s idea of fun, he thought bitterly. In fairness, his attitude was coloured somewhat by circumstances; he’d probably feel differently if he hadn’t been stranded here, with only a sketchy idea of what was going on or how it was supposed to work. In spite of everything he couldn’t help being impressed by the achievement, and the implications – for dimensional theory, M-space, the whole of quantum physics – were stunning. On the other hand, he couldn’t help thinking that maybe Pieter could’ve found something slightly more useful to do with his discovery. It was a bit like inventing the wheel with the sole intention of building a superior golf buggy.
Never mind, he told himself sternly, about all that; what I need to do is find the way out of here. Which, apparently, I can’t do; not without my user name, password, PIN and product licence number. He thought about that, and the few scraps of evidence he’d gathered so far about how this thing worked. Then he took a deep breath and shouted:
“HELLO! I’VE FORGOTTEN MY USER NAME, PASSWORD, PIN AND PRODUCT LICENCE NUMBER! HELP!”
He looked round. Just as he was about to give up hope, he felt a tiny pressure on the back of his right hand. He looked down, and saw a butterfly crawling from his wrist towards his knuckles. And, across the insect’s outstretched wings, in tiny letters that grew as he looked at them –
Thank you for accessing VGI YouSpace HelpSwift. Your user name, password, PIN number and product licence number have been emailed to you at your registered address in your default reality.
The butterfly spread its wings and fluttered away before he could squash it, which was probably just as well. Never mind. He wasn’t beaten quite yet. He took another deep breath, and called out:
“HELLO! I WANT TO ACCESS MY EMAIL! CAN I DO THAT FROM HERE?”
This time he wasn’t in the least surprised when a dragonfly materialised a few inches from his nose and hovered for a moment, wings beating invisibly fast, before landing on the lowest branch of the tree. It crawled across a leaf, then flew away. And on the leaf it had chewed:
Accessing your email from a YouSpace pocket universe is quick and easy. Simply input your name, password, PIN number and product licence number, and you’ll be forwarded to your mailbox instantly.
This time, when he shouted, there were no words, just a great deal of feeling. It relieved a certain amount of immediate stress, but that was all. He sat down under the tree and forced himself to get a grip. He’d got here, he told himself, by using straightforward, no-bullshit mathematics. The same agency, it stood to reason, should be able to get him home.
The idiotic costume he was wearing had no pockets; but there was a leather pouch attached to the belt, and, when he managed to get it off and prise open the drawstring, in it he found his handkerchief, a rubber band he remembered picking up off the reception desk, the magnifying glass, the pencil and the brown manila envelope. He sighed with relief and looked at it, trying to figure out how to reverse the effect. The obvious starting point was the seventh stage of the calculation, but he couldn’t quite see –
He wrote a few lines, then realised he’d run out of space. He remembered that Pieter’s letter was still inside, took it out and turned it over to use the back. And saw a scribbled note in Pieter’s writing which he hadn’t noticed before:
PS: you’ll need a user name, password, PIN number and product licence number. These are as follows:
user name: pietervangoyen6
password: flawlessdiamondsoforthdoxy
PIN: 20485205720593724084503266384500923486 233458698743330503400564656452
product licence number: 1
MEMORISE THESE IMMEDIATELY. To input them, just say them aloud and clap your hands three times.
Regards,
P.
So he did that; and nothing happened.
He was about to break down and cry when it occurred to him that he’d logged on but he hadn’t done anything yet. So he yelled “Help!”; and, a moment later, he saw a little man walk out of the edge of the corn and start trudging up the hill towards him. He was old and he had a limp, and he had to stop and rest twice, but eventually he dragged himself up level with where Theo was standing and dropped down at the foot of the beech tree, breathing hard.
“Are you—?”
“Just a minute, got to get my breath.”
He was short, no more than four feet, with a Santa Claus beard and flyaway white hair under a stained and tatty jester’s hat, and he wore black boots with tarnished silver buckles. His doublet was embroidered with question marks.
“You’re Help,” Theo said.
“That’s me,” Help wheezed.
“But a minute ago you were a—”
“Yes,” Help said.
“There was a hawk, and—”
Help nodded. “Yes,” he said. “Just because someone thought it’d be smart to use unregistered software. Only,” he added, with a resentful glance in Theo’s direction, “it’s not the goddamn cheapskate user who gets eaten by the frigging hawk. Oh no. Right,” he went on, sitting up and stretching. “What d’you want?”
“I want to go home,” Theo said. “Now.”
Help shrugged. “Who’s stopping you?”
“I don’t know how.”
“You don’t – oh for crying out loud. Hold on, though.” He looked up at Theo and frowned. “You’re not Professor van Goyen.”
Here we go, Theo said to himself. “Um, no. I’m his heir.”
“His what?”
“Heir. He left me this – this thing in his will.”
Help looked at him as though he was talking in a lang
uage he didn’t understand. “The professor’s dead?”
“Yes. Didn’t—”
Help sighed, a long and rather dramatic process in three acts. “Of course, nobody thinks to tell me. Oh no. I find stuff out as I go along, it’s more challenging that way. Dead? Really?”
Theo nodded.
Help thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Rest his soul,” he said. “So, what did he die of, then?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know. Of course you don’t. Ah well. Leaving,” Help said briskly. “Piece of cake.”
“That’s easy for you to—”
“Usually,” Help went on, as if he hadn’t spoken, “a piece of cake. More precisely, a doughnut; though technically a bagel would do just as well.”
Can’t have heard that right. “Doughnut?”
“Yes, doughnut. You can buy them at any baker, patisserie or pavement café. In fact, the first thing you should do on arrival is go straight—”
Theo extended his arms. “Where, for pity’s sake? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Help sighed. “Just over the skyline there,” he said, pointing due north, “there’s a roadside vendor selling a wide range of food products, including doughnuts. Trust me, there’ll always be one somewhere, no matter where you end up, it’s hardwired into the OS. Anyway, so, you’ve got your doughnut. Simply take it in your hand and lift it level with your eyes, and look through the hole in the middle.”
Theo waited for a moment, then said, “And?”
Help shook his head. “That’s it,” he said. “That gets you home.”
“A doughnut?”
“A doughnut. Any doughnut, so long as it’s round and it’s got a hole in it. Don’t,” Help added quickly as Theo drew a deep breath, “ask me how it works, it just does. So,” he added, as Theo shook his head in disbelief, “just to run over the salient points once more. Bakery or similar retail outlet. Doughnut. Lift, look and leave. Now, do you think you’ve got a handle on that, or would you like me to run through it again for you?”