Locking eyes with Greg, she mouthed, Greg! Grab Nat and get out! He’s dangerous, while pointing repeatedly at the cop. The cop’s meaty hand slid away from what she assumed was a notepad, down toward his belt; everyone was silent. The silence, but not the tension, was broken by the loud squawk of the cop’s radio.
“Unit 21 to KEA571. I’m at University Hospital ER in response to shots fired on an ambulance. Medic 82 is here. Only minor injuries, though the medic is a little shaken. Requesting additional units, CSI and shift commander on-site. Over.”
Although the back of the cop’s head didn’t move as he stared at Greg, his hand keyed the radio microphone.
“Unit 54, KEA571. I’m at the hospital now. I’ll meet unit 21 and the ambulance downstairs.”
The startled sound in his voice was the best thing she had heard in a very long time.
Things not going according to plan, asshole?
The rubber band tugged on her, pulling her back to the Wave World. This time she didn’t fight it.
***
The cop left. From the radio call, she knew John was at the emergency room entrance with other officers and would be safe. She spotted John’s pearl close by and saw the cop hadn’t gone anywhere near John, which gave her no small amount of satisfaction. Aida watched as he let the waves and event lines push him away, and then he slipped out of view.
Greg and Nat were agitated, and it was a little while before John was able to join them. Suspecting what they would be talking about, Aida reached out to Greg, but this time she was slow and lethargic. She couldn’t contact him. So she settled back, content with what she had done. Max’s pearl was close by and in view; it grew brighter as he flipped his focus from the Particle World to the Wave World.
“You’ll need to rest before you can do anything like that again,” Max said with a mix of admiration and exasperation. “That was incredible…and an incredible risk. You saved John’s life, and then he saved you and your family.”
“How’d you see that?”
“I didn’t,” Max said, “but another monk was watching. She told me. And before you ask, she’s new to this. She heard you call for help, but she can’t reach out to others yet or talk as we do.”
“Well, I think I handled things pretty well on my own.”
“Yes, you did. There’s a lot I’d like to know, but now’s not the time. I just spoke to Matthew; he’s almost at the hospital, so we have to get ready to get you out of there.”
“What do we need to do?” Aida asked.
“Hide you and your family from those who are watching. It’ll be tricky, but there’s an opportunity coming up.”
“John too. He comes too,” she said.
“He’s already part of the plan. Don’t worry. He’ll come too. Now here’s what’s going to happen…”
16 Shell Game
“O mmmmmmmmmmmm,” Aida voiced, and as she did, the background vibration of the Wave World rose and fell in time with her breathing like swells on the ocean. She imagined herself lying still and quiet, reciting the mantra that Max had given her. She had heard of this one—everyone had—but had never tried it. The peaceful action settled her and allowed her to concentrate on the image of Greg and Nat she had pictured in her mind.
The monks were blocking her view of the Wave World. Several others had flipped over to join Max. They had taken up positions around her, Greg, Nat, and John. One monk had fallen behind the group and was following them.
“We’re going to help you focus on your meditation by masking your view. There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Max told her.
She felt his gentle touch on her mind, and the mesh of light trails against the smooth darkness was partially veiled. In turn, each monk reached out to Aida, just brushing her pearl, dimming her view of the Wave World until she saw nothing but a formless, untouchable sparkling silver gray all around her.
“Ommmmmmmmmmmm.”
***
Max watched the partial cocoon form around Aida. They intentionally had left the front, the direction in which she was heading, open, hoping she’d look ahead into the Particle World where her family waited. If they could get her to do that, Matthew had reasoned, she would flip back, and this whole misadventure would end with everyone safe and sound.
From the outside, he could barely discern the effect of the cocoon on the appearance of Aida’s pearl. That made sense, as its purpose was more to impede her perception of the Wave World than to mask the light of her consciousness. Her focus, which before had freely roamed like an errant lighthouse signal, had now settled and, to some minor degree, dimmed. Max attributed the stillness of her focus to the effectiveness of the meditation bolstered by the perceptual cocoon.
Now comes the tricky part, Max thought.
Both Matthew and he knew that the cop and the nurse were pawns acting on behalf of others—and it was those “others” who were observing Aida. They were the ones moving the chess pieces. He didn’t know their actual names—no one did—and the monks of the Chama Valley Zen Center weren’t going to try to find out. It was bad karma to associate with people who were so…
Unwholesome was the best word any of them could come up with.
Buddhism had a better term, akusala, for those people and their actions, and that was how the monks referred to them. The monks had been aware of the akusala for some years now. Their initial entry into the Wave World had been short-lived and, like most of their initial actions, also brutal and crude. The monks watched as more than a dozen people were forcibly flipped over to view the Wave World only to die a short time later. Recently, though, just in the past twelve months, the victims of the akusala hadn’t died so quickly; they were living and observing longer. With this, the akusala were accumulating knowledge, and their observers and agents were becoming more skilled.
Let’s hope they’re not as skilled as we are yet, Max thought. It doesn’t seem that they are.
The akusala’s first actions against the Doxiphuses had been direct, confrontational, and violent. At least one person was dead, and more would be if their plan failed. But if the monks had read the movements of the Wave World correctly, it looked like the akusala were about to switch tactics and try a softer, more manipulative approach to ensnaring Aida and her family. The akusala were withdrawing the stick and offering the carrot, as it were. They probably would present the opportunity to solve the puzzle of Aida’s condition in a location Greg believed to be safe.
I imagine the fox telling the gingerbread man to avoid the rising water by hopping onto the tip of his nose, Max thought.
If the monks’ plan worked, Greg would take the bait, doing exactly what the akusala expected him to do, but with one minor change. Then, if Aida stayed quiet, and if Greg listened to Matthew and put the pieces together himself and no one else noticed, and if everyone did what the monks believed and hoped they would do, then…
The Doxiphuses will disappear from the view of the akusala, and we’ll have a group of people hunting us who are undoubtedly well financed and who won’t hesitate to kill us to get what they want.
The thought of death didn’t bother Max and Matthew; it was part of the endless cycle of samsara they both were trying to escape.
Perhaps this act will count as one of the ten wholesome acts we need in order for our next rebirth to occur on one of the higher planes.
***
Beverly Michelson stepped out of the private jet and into the waiting car. She wasn’t surprised to be here in University City, though she was annoyed that Gilden and his trained attack dogs had wasted almost two days. They had failed to get what The Project needed from the subject and risked exposing everything.
Men who hold power are such arrogant, egotistic assholes, she thought.
Finally, after one murder, one attempted murder, and a direct confrontation with one of the most brilliant men Michelson knew, Gilden admitted his way wasn’t working, so he turned to plan B, which was always Michelson and the Predictive Sciences Section (PSS).<
br />
Greg has been through a terrible ordeal these past two days. He’ll be looking for a way out. He’ll want to take care of his wife. I just need to provide them with the easy way to go. It was simple, really.
With a touch of anticipation, she realized, I need to get ready for Greg.
She raised the partition between her and the driver before turning on the vanity lights and dropping down the mirror. The bright lights overpowered any view she had of the outside and would have made her visible to anyone watching her but for the heavily tinted windows. She freshened her makeup and brushed out her shoulder-length blond hair and added a touch of her custom-made perfume—just a little, no need to overpower the man. She only wanted to get Greg to notice her.
That shouldn’t be hard, she thought as she admired her legs and figure. He was only a man, and she wanted something from him.
***
Max watched Greg as he spoke with these two new people. He didn’t dare touch any of their minds and risk exposing himself. One—if not both—of the interlocutors was certain to be akusala. The brief, as far as he could tell, encounter ended, and Greg returned his attention to Natalia and John. Greg’s pearl separated from their small group, advancing haltingly, weighed down by the decision to take the unavoidable opportunity he’d just been offered and didn’t want. Greg then slid down in between two waves, disappearing from view. On the crest of the far wave, Matthew was waiting for Max to let him know the opportunity had arrived.
“Now, Matthew!” he called out.
The monk’s pearl dropped between the opposing waves to take advantage of the limited amount of privacy they would have.
Good luck, my friend.
Matthew emerged, maneuvering along the background waves to minimize his exposure. This grouping of waves was more than a little unusual. Their size, orientation, and the timing of their arrival coincided so neatly with their needs, and he was grateful for it. Every once in a while, the universe conspired with you to bring you what you needed when you needed it. Laypeople referred to this as the “everything is going my way” experience.
The two waves rolled away, revealing Greg alone.
Now we’ll see which decision he made.
The answer was immediately apparent in the way the man moved. Gone was the weight he had carried before. Max pictured Greg striding decisively ahead, toward his prior destination, which was unchanged, and the words he would say were also unchanged; it was only the outcome that the man expected that had changed. With a gentle stroke, Max let his attention fall on Greg. Keeping his distance, he opened himself to feeling Greg’s emotional state. Hope. Relief. Empowerment. He checked them off in his mind.
“Let Matthew know Dr. Doxiphus has accepted our offer of assistance,” said Max to a novitiate who would flip back and call Matthew.
***
Dr. Qian Yan, a tall, spare man, circled the projection stage, eyeing the 3-D holographic projections of quantum space in the darkened observation room. The hologram was a composited view of quantum space, an assembly of the live feeds from the observers. In the center were the quantum representations of mind (QRMs) of the Doxiphuses. Their past and projected paths were overlaid on the composite view in brightly colored lines.
Being one of the designers of this system, Qian knew that roiling background of quantum space, called quantum foam, was portrayed using the same imaging code used to model fluid dynamics in 3-D. Whenever he looked at the holographic projection, he thought of the time he had spent at the ocean in his childhood. Waves rode over other waves and collapsed into one another, not on the surface of a plane but from all directions, agnostic of concepts like up or down. Infinite ocean breakers piling up on one another and then shrinking to the tiniest ripples, which looked like lines crossing, only to dissipate as they lapped over one’s feet.
The QRMs were represented as points of light embedded in the background. They bore more than a slight resemblance to galaxies and stars in the 3-D models of the universe Qian had seen. It took the eye some time to get used to seeing the world this way.
In the far field, toward the edges of the projection, computers tracked the motion of trillions of points in order to predict the future state of quantum space. With this, he could know with almost perfect accuracy when and where waves or events would converge on a subject to produce actual effects in normal space.
The primary subject, Aida Doxiphus, was quiescent. Right now, he was mostly interested in one of the secondary subjects, Gregorio Doxiphus. Dr. Michelson, represented by a green dot labeled “actor A,” had just finished offering subject B, Gregorio, the opportunity to come here to The Project. If he took the option, his blue dot would turn and start following the desired path, projected as a gold line in 3-D space. The gold line molded itself to the contours of the background and represented the path of least resistance; it was the easiest way to go. This was a sign that there was more than a 99 percent chance that subject B would take the offer and follow the path, a fact that was reflected by the prediction-accuracy counter projected in the corner of the hologram as part of the heads-up display.
PredAcc
99.999%
Subject B started in motion, heading right down the entrance of the gold path. Though it wasn’t a surprise, Qian nodded in approval; confirmation was always gratifying. It was just a matter of time now.
The subject then entered a valley between two crests and was lost from sight. He was still on the gold path, so the momentary interruption didn’t worry Qian. This sort of thing happened from time to time, and it never influenced the calculus of the prediction. It always amazed him how people stuck to a course of action once they had decided on it, even if it wasn’t beneficial for them.
He walked ninety degrees around the circular platform to get a different angle on subject B. The crests rose, still blocking his line of sight.
Wait it out. Doxiphus is already on the path.
Qian checked the time on his mobile device; these things usually lasted only two to three minutes. He could use the break to update the observation log. He sat down at his station and keyed in his notes, which would accompany the video recording of the important activities in quantum space.
Gilden preferred to watch the replay with colorful arrows and callouts already inserted; it made it easier for him to follow. Personally, Qian thought this was demeaning to the science they did here.
Americans…everything has to look like an instant replay of one of their brutish football games. At least Michelson understood the art of observing.
The shrill screech of the integrity alarm, followed by a recorded voice, broke the quiet of the observation room.
“Warning. Warning. Observational integrity failure. Loss of reference point.”
“Gǒu shǐ!” he cursed, spinning in his chair to face the hologram. The safeties built into the capture and rendering system had frozen the image at the moment in time just before the reference point was lost. It took Qian a moment to reorient himself and regain his composure. Doxiphus’s blue dot had emerged from between the crests that had hidden it and was still squarely on the path. He glanced down to the clocks at the base of the observing platform. One showed actual local time; the other showed elapsed time since the occurrence of a major event, which in this case was the loss of the reference point.
Days
Hours
Minutes
Seconds
.1 Seconds
00
00
00
12
50
Twelve and a half seconds and counting.
This was critical, because for every fraction of a second that they didn’t have a live feed from the observers and were blind to the state of the quantum world, their predictions became less accurate. The prediction accuracy percentage already was dropping.
PredAcc
99.995%
PredAcc decay was linear for the first few hours. It would decline at a constant rate until it reached about 95 percent i
n about eight hours. At that point, the predictive models would break down due to too many unknown data points, and the decline would be exponential, doubling every tenth of a second.
Chaos theory in action, Qian mused, not that knowing why the system behaved as it did would help them out here. He knew what was coming next.
Days
Hours
Minutes
Seconds
.1 Seconds
00
00
00
31
23
The phone in his pocket vibrated.
“What’s happening, Qian?”
“We just lost the reference point, Mr. Gilden. The last known good projection showed subject B had decided to take Dr. Michelson’s offer; he was firmly on the desired path, and PredAcc was at 99.999 percent. The prediction is good for about eight more hours.”
Qian heard Gilden’s sigh of exasperation. “How long until we’re back up?”
“It takes about six hours to get another reference point online…but there’s a snag, sir. We need Dr. Michelson here to perform the procedure.”
This time there was no sigh on the other end of the line, just silence. Qian knew to keep quiet and wait until he was spoken to.
“I’ll handle that. You start the prep.”
“Yes, Mr. Gilden,” he said, the muscles around his torso clenching at the thought of the task.
After hanging up, Qian moved to his console to ensure the raw feeds from the three remaining observers were being recorded. Although the data they captured wouldn’t be as useful now that they lacked a reference point to anchor them together in time and 3-D space, the recordings would be accurate within the scope of each observer’s view frame. The constant movement, the expansion and contraction of quantum space that the observers were embedded in, would cause a drift they would be unable to account for.
Flip Page 16