Flip

  “They’re running from us; they’re hidden and probably want to stay that way. I don’t think they’re an immediate threat. We’ll find them before they can do any harm,” Gilden said in response. “Right now the pilot is more important.”

  “No, Jerome! Finding the Doxiphuses and figuring out how Aida got over has to be our first priority. She’s the key to all this. If we lose her—”

  Gilden cut her off. “It’ll be no different than if she had died in the first place. I understand your concerns. That’s why you need to get back to University City and get to Doxiphus’s scanner. The grant application is waiting for you on the plane.”

  ***

  Now they want to see the Doxiphus lab! Alvin Kelley cursed silently. It was 6:04 p.m., and he had just finished with the auditors for the day. Thankfully they had turned down his requisite invitation to dinner. A full day’s university business was stacked up in his inbox; he’d at least have to look through that before calling it a night. He walked through the quiet outer office into his own. Randy had left a stack of papers for him to sign, along with a turkey sandwich, a bag of chips, and a bottle of water.

  Kelley removed his phone from his suit jacket and laid it on his desk. Ever fastidious, he hung his jacket neatly in his office closet before sitting down.

  Greg and Aida…where are they?

  ***

  They had gotten through Denver, Colorado Springs, and Pueblo during the morning and early afternoon. They were on I-25, near Walsenburg, about three and a half hours from their destination. Stops were limited to restroom breaks; they hadn’t purchased anything for fear of being tracked. Aida had spiked a fever, and her breaths were coming faster.

  “Could be a systemic infection,” John offered.

  “Perhaps, Mr. Holden,” Matthew replied. “The sooner we get home—my home, that is—the better. Aida’s prolonged engagement in the Wave World seems to be taking a toll on her body.”

  Greg was drowsing in the passenger seat when his phone buzzed, indicating it was fully charged. Intent on driving, John didn’t hear the buzz or see him pluck his phone out of the console and power it on. After a minute, the device sang its startup music on radio and sound frequencies to let the world know where it was and that it was ready.

  “Dad!” Natalia shrieked from the back.

  Greg’s eyes snapped wide open as he came fully awake. Last night, John had warned them about being tracked through their cell phones.

  “Greg! Kill it!” John shouted from the driver’s seat.

  Greg stabbed at his phone. Mortified, he looked at John and Nat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  ***

  Angus Baka was pacing behind a row of seated technicians, each intent on his or her bank of screens. The room was dark and overly cooled, the only light coming from the screens. A popup flashed on one of the screens.

  “Got a hit on Greg Doxiphus’s mobile,” the tech reported. “A cell tower near the I-25 and Colorado state 160 interchange by Walsenburg.”

  “Cameras,” Baka barked, and another technician set to the task.

  “Got ’em! Ambulance, New Mexico plates—older ones, yellow and red, BCF-1122.” His fingers danced on the keyboard for a moment as he ran the plates. “Registered to local government…Abiquiú.”

  Baka was already reporting in. “They’re in Colorado, heading to New Mexico, probably to Abiquiú.” He nodded once and hung up. “Let’s go,” he said to one of the techs, and both left the room.

  ***

  On the live video feed, the ambulance pulled to the shoulder, and the driver got out. He dropped several items under the front wheels, got back in, and drove back and forth over them several times, grinding them into the Colorado dust.

  22 Abomination

  T he ambulance turned off the last of the paved highways onto a gravel-and-dirt driveway overgrown with tumbleweeds. The stones ground against one another under the weight of the vehicle, and some were sent skittering out from behind the rear wheels as Greg tapped on the gas to get it up the steep slope. Whereas it seemed slightly out of place on the interstates of Nebraska and Colorado, the dust-covered, careworn vehicle fit right in here in New Mexico. As the roadbed curved around, it leveled off and opened into a dirt parking lot in front of the high walls of the Chama Valley Zen Center. The compound sat on hill in a bend in the Chama River, thick with cottonwoods, piñons, and junipers. Greg pulled up to a broad, solid wooden gate where several monks waited. They surrounded Aida as John and Greg wheeled her into one of the buildings.

  “We’ll tend to your wife while the final preparations are made. In the meantime, would you follow me, please?” a monk in a burgundy-and-saffron robe said.

  He led Natalia, John, and Greg to a private room where they could rest and freshen up. A platter of warm frijoles, arroz, fresh corn and flour tortillas, and tamales greeted them. After the long trip, nothing had ever smelled so good.

  “Thank you for this,” John told the monk.

  “Mollie prepared this for you. She’ll be back soon. You can thank her then. For now, please eat. There are cots if you wish to lie down. The restroom and shower are through the other door. We’re almost finished with the mandala. I expect we’ll be starting in about ninety minutes.”

  ***

  Aida had ceased her mental repetition of “Ommmmmmmm” some time ago as she tried to rest. The gray-silver cocoon the monks had woven around her was gone now that the monks were resting too, leaving her with an unobstructed view of the Wave World. Max checked on her periodically and kept her informed regarding the progress of the ambulance to their compound.

  He told her they would start the cocooning process again after they arrived. She looked forward to being cocooned; there was something peaceful and restorative about it. Now that it was gone, she noticed something else about herself.

  I’m slow, foggy. I must be tired.

  Max wasn’t around, but both he and Matthew had promised someone always would be watching her, even if they were unable to talk to her.

  I’ll have to ask him how long I’ve been here when he comes back.

  “Hello. Anybody out there?”

  No response.

  Aida had become more comfortable with the Wave World and no longer needed to anchor herself by focusing in tightly on something. The feeling of falling, as in a dream, had been replaced with the acceptance of being untethered, ungrounded. Now she found it easier to broaden her view and take everything in. Innumerable pearls, gathered in brocades of incandescence, dominated her view and gave structure to everything she saw. Vast stretches of open black ocean separated great islands of light, with only a few groups of travelers riding the unseen waves.

  In some groupings, though, she saw the dance of the pearls had broken down. The paths they traced, once intertwined and healthy, had gotten out of step with one another, and then the dance ended, each pearl going off on its own and shining less brightly in its isolation. Aida was unsure whether this dissociation was happening more frequently or whether she was better able to notice it. It bothered her; whichever it was, it was happening on a grand scale.

  People are pulling away from each other. Relationships are breaking down…

  “Aida?” It was Matthew. “I’ve arrived with your husband and daughter at the Chama Valley Zen Center in New Mexico. After some rest, we’ll try again to get you flipped back. Everyone is okay, just tired. How are you doing?”

  “Okay, I guess. I’m feeling slow, like I’m tired. What day is it? How long have I been here?” she asked.

  “You are tired. You’ve been here for about a hundred hours. It’s time to get you out. We’ll get started as soon as we can.”

  As the light of his focus started to turn forward, she called to him. “Matthew, wait!”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve noticed that in some areas, people aren’t relating to each other like they used to. The clusters of pearls are breaking apart, and they’re going their own ways. It doesn’t feel right. Is
this normal?”

  Matthew was silent for a moment before answering. “That’s a penetrating observation. It’s not right, and it’s not normal. Society is breaking down. It’s only gotten worse over the past fifty years. You see, the more people focus on themselves, the more humanity marginalizes the weak and the most vulnerable, the faster the fabric of our global society breaks apart. We believe the actions of the people who are pursuing you and people like them are making matters worse. But we can’t worry about that right now. We can talk about this more over a good cup of coffee later. You’ll be back home with your family soon.”

  His focus turned away from the Wave World, and Aida was alone again.

  Matthew’s suggestion turned her thoughts to Greg and Nat, to seeing them again and the tenderness of holding them and being held by them.

  I’ll see them soon!

  Her anticipation was palpable but mixed with reluctance to let go of the wonders before her.

  Will I ever see all this again?

  She tried to relax and open up her perceptions so she could drink in everything she saw and permanently imprint it in her memory.

  I don’t want to forget this. I have to remember it so I can describe it to Greg and Nat.

  A small event wave rocked her. These were fairly frequent, and she was accustomed to them now. It was followed by another, and then another, each one increasing in size and force.

  That’s different, she thought.

  Turning her focus toward the origin of the waves, Aida saw the darkness of a massive event wave looming in the distance. The wave grew as it bore down on her, blocking all the remaining light. The hand of fear touched her.

  The wave hit her, rolling her over and over like a pebble in a flood. Finally, the spinning world settled.

  What was that?

  Aida searched for the source of the titanic wave while she was in a trough. Following the path backward, she spotted four dim lights with perfectly straight trails behind them.

  There!

  She turned to where she had last seen Matthew and called, “Matthew! Anyone!”

  Another wave struck her from behind. More powerful than the previous one, it left her stunned and disoriented. Waves continued to pound her. Helpless and out of control, Aida endured the onslaught. Immeasurable time passed until the waves abated and she drifted. Eventually her mind cleared, and the Wave World calmed.

  That was horrible!

  She searched about for the four dim pearls.

  Where are they?

  Despite the distortions that the event tsunamis had left in their passing, Aida found the four dim lights she thought to be their source and homed in on them.

  “Aida! Aida!” It was Max.

  “Here. I’m over here.”

  “Are you okay? Stay still. I’ll be right there.” Like a powerful searchlight, Max’s mind shone brightly against the shaded, storm-tossed background. He found Aida and touched her mind.

  “What were those?” he asked.

  “Enormous event waves. Have you ever seen anything like that before?”

  “No, something terrible has happened. We need to get you out of here now!”

  “Listen, I saw where they came from. We have to take a look. We have to understand them in order to deal with them.”

  “All right, but let’s make it fast.” He knew arguing the point would only prolong their time here.

  “Those waves came from the direction of four very dim pearls, off on their own. Their decision lines—threads, whatever you call them—are completely straight.”

  “Yes, I see them,” Max said. “They’re sick, barely alive…”

  Aida narrowed her focus on one of them. It wasn’t moving on its own; it was locked into the background. The light the pearl emitted was murky and weak.

  What’s wrong with you? she wondered.

  Bewildered that there were no troughs around for a death fold to hide in, Aida reached out to touch the pearl. Its outer boundary gave way like the rotted flesh of a corpse.

  “I have to find out more,” she told Max.

  “Aida, no!”

  Her need to understand this illness and heal it drove her to engage her senses. Agony and revulsion ripped through her. This wasn’t a person, not anymore. It was alive, but only in the same way that a bacterium can be said to be alive. This was a butchered and twisted remnant of a human.

  I have to know…

  Dr. Doxiphus fought against the revulsion and eased deeper into the experience, mind, and memories of this person. In the center was a flicker of light, the flame of human consciousness. She tenderly palpated it.

  His name was Ray Lee Stevens.

  “Help me,” he said weakly. “Please help me.”

  Feeble and wan though his being was, he shared his memories with her. Images flashed in her mind’s eye. She saw trees and hills and a low, modern two-story building hidden among them. He showed her Seattle, and she saw the inside of a tent and a young man with a baseball cap with “PUSHH” embroidered on it. A bus was leaving Seattle, heading into the hills to the south, and there were other men and women on board. A medical facility, the faces of people dressed in lab coats. One face shocked her.

  Beverly Michelson!

  The images continued in rapid succession. A photo ID badge read “Volunteer 119.” The progression of images froze on one face, an Asian man who was injecting Ray with something.

  The memories ended there, leaving only the agony. This patient was beyond her help. Unable to bear his torment, she pulled herself out.

  “He’s somewhere south of Seattle. His name is Ray, Ray Lee Stevens. Something appalling has been done to him,” she cried out to Max.

  ***

  Qian saw the flash of light jump from a QRM right into the view of Observer 119. The holographic stage flared brilliant white, obscuring everything. Alarms blared, and for a few seconds, Qian thought the entire system had collapsed. He snatched up the phone line to the production floor.

  “What’s going on down there!” he shouted. Alarms went off in the background.

  Over the din, a panicked voice replied, “Observer 119’s feed just went haywire. There’s a massive power surge through the nano probes. We’re trying to compensate.”

  “Do it fast or you’ll lose him!” Qian pulled up the diagnostics from Observer 119 and gasped. A system that had been designed to detect and process the faintest of electrical signals was being flooded with energy that was millions of times more powerful than it could handle.

  “Trying to attenuate the signal!” he said into the phone, but no one was listening.

  Qian heard techs yelling at each other on the production floor. “Terminate the connection before we lose the whole system!” “Kill it. Cut it off. Cut it off.”

  Suddenly the alarms stopped.

  “What’s happening? What’s going on?” Qian raged into the phone, but on his screen, the readings were normal again. He spun in his chair to see a last spark jump from the view of 119 back to the originating QRM.

  It’s her! Qian thought.

  It took a second or two for him to lock the imaging system onto the QRM of Aida Doxiphus. He snatched up his secure mobile device.

  “Mr. Gilden, we have located her.”

  ***

  Matthew and Max were under a large cottonwood tree that stood at the center of the courtyard, speaking in hushed whispers.

  “How is she?” Matthew asked.

  “Traumatized, horrified, in shock. She touched the mind of one of the akusala’s victims,” said Max. “They’ve butchered his body and mind. She told us where they are. We’ve got to stop them, at least from doing to others what they’ve done to that poor man.”

  “I agree, though I don’t know how. The others will need to be persuaded. Will you attend to that, please?” Max nodded, and Matthew continued. “Talk to John. Perhaps he’ll have an idea.”

  “She’s weakening, Matthew. I don’t think she’ll last another day.”

  “
I know.”

  “Those massive disturbances…if they hit her again…”

  “There’s no doubt the massive disturbances were created by the akusala,” said Matthew. “But how are they doing it, and why?”

  “This is extremely dangerous—for the world and for us. Up until now, they’ve been content with using what they learn from the Wave World to benefit themselves financially and politically. The only thing that makes sense to me is that they’re trying to move beyond reading the causes of events to generating causes in the Wave World in order to effect outcomes here in the Particle World.”

  23 The Choice

  G ilden had made it a practice to monitor local news feeds from key cities around the world. Each of them reported outbreaks of interpersonal violence. Stabbings, shootings, and gang violence were the most frequently reported. Incidents of road rage made a few headlines, along with an uptick in the number of petty robberies and carjackings. The local authorities were dealing with each case individually. Lately there had been more than the usual number of reports of excessive use of force by police, particularly against people of color, but that didn’t matter to him.

  All the events were local, spontaneous, and unrelated as far as anyone else knew. Fortunately there was nothing major, no mass rioting or looting, and no nation had acted against another. Without a doubt, the desensitized world would dismiss the reports as just more bad news to be forgotten as soon as the next commercial ran. They might be left feeling a little more defensive, a little less trusting of their fellow inhabitants of this planet, and therefore they’d be willing to pay more for security, which was just fine by him, thank you. The pilot had been fantastically successful. The Project remained an unseen mover of events, invisible in the shadows, and would continue to profit from its position.

  Qian had complained that the induced waves were too strong, and in addition to risking damage to the observers, there might be unexpected consequences. Gilden might have heeded the warnings until Qian also told him how the induced waves had affected Aida Doxiphus. After reviewing the data multiple times, it was clear that her QRM felt the effects of the induced waves an order of magnitude more than other QRMs.