Infinite Eyes (Wanderers Book 3)

by James Murdo

  “It was inside you? Isn’t that… dangerous?”

  [Yes, it was worrying. But it didn’t do anything. Passed through me like it wasn’t there, or I wasn’t there. Take your pick.]

  “But… but now it’s different. It’s detectable.”

  [Yes, but I don’t want to move you about now, seeing as it’s likely to unstoppably follow you and could damage my insides.]

  “Oh…”

  [Perhaps this dark spherical void is the culmination of whatever the rods were doing before.]

  “And all of it… was to get to me?”

  [The sheer arrogance! We have no idea what this is all about, yet.]

  “It’s so close, it’s–”

  [Shame on you, Tor! Where’s that fierce warrior from the commune?]

  “I wasn’t a warrior, and I didn’t fight… I’m not worried for myself, not at all. I’m worried for Gil. I have to survive, we both have to, to help her.”

  [Look, don’t worry. I get it, I really do. This thing, whatever it is, has kept its distance from you, no matter how the situation appears. I don’t think you’re in any direct harm.]

  “Bu–”

  [Actually, wait. Something is happening, look.]

  Tor could see a small, smooth protrusion began to emerge from the surface of the dark sphere. Simultaneously, the air between himself and the sphere seemed to shimmer, as though a faint wall was there. Keeping an eye on the protrusion emerging, he moved a hand, bringing it close to the shimmering wall.

  [You can try, but it won’t let you pass. Just a safety precaution.]

  “That’s you?”

  [Yes.]

  “I thought you said it was probably unstoppable?”

  [It’s better than nothing. Besides, maybe I’ll need to keep you separated from it.]

  *

  DeVoid continued in its attempts to analyse the mysterious N-SOL object, but found next to nothing. The protrusion had stayed as a protrusion. A bump, on the surface of the object, covering approximately one-sixteenth of its surface area, but only slightly raised. It rotated around the sphere, or the sphere was spinning.

  The object was opaque to most analysis techniques at DeVoid’s disposal, now absorbing anything incident upon it. Aside from the protrusion, the fact that it absorbed all particles and waves was the only quantitative property DeVoid had identified. The spin of the protrusion was haphazard. There was no identifiable repeating pattern, not even an irrational one.

  “What’s it doing, DeVoid?”

  [Why don’t you tell me, Tor? Oh wait, I remember, you don’t know, do you?]

  “Well…”

  [Well what? Tor, don’t you think if I knew, I’d tell you. Despite the intellectual gulf between us, I always keep you informed.]

  “Yes, that’s true, but… it’s just the waiting.”

  [You’ll have to be patient. Nothing has happened outside yet, either. Would you like me to put you to sleep?]

  “No… not yet.”

  The N-SOL object began to expand, quickly.

  46

  GIL

  Lying in her bed, she was too tired to keep it out. The whispers grew louder and the sensespace expanded to fill her mind. Her infinite eyes returned to her, and she was drawn back into its clutch. Reality dissolved as her eyes closed.

  *

  She was at the same place as before. The nexus, where she was sure it had all begun. The delivery of the sensespace into the galaxy, from the sensespace’s own recollection or version of a databanks.

  She tried to keep the notion alive within her consciousness that she needed to be objective and logical. What she was being shown might not have actually happened, or might purely be designed to elicit a specific response from her. Even if the sensespace was not strictly sentient, or in possession of anything resembling an intellect, that did not mean it could not trick her.

  Again, she was just a presence. It was similar to the presence she became when she explored her surroundings through the sensespace, although there were some differences. She did not have any measure of real control, and everything felt predetermined. The galaxy, the positions of the white streaks and their effects were immutable, like a highly detailed memory.

  An unpleasant thought came to her, and she remembered Teacher, the Granthan-lect that had once invaded her body – and her mind. Her memory might have appeared like this to the cruel machine-lect, albeit far inferior, and with Teacher having far more influence over what it chose to observe than she had here. It could have examined her most intimate moments, her most treasured and her least wanted. All of them.

  Teacher had changed while it resided within her. It had become more illogical, more fuelled by emotion, and less able to conceal its malicious intent or its underlying nature. She had assumed this was because of its exposure to her memories. However, if her memories had been able to change Teacher, perhaps these visions from the sensespace were designed to change her. She drew some solace from the fact that the craft-lect and One-oh would undoubtedly have considered the possibility anyway, and would be monitoring her for signs.

  Pushing the unsavoury thoughts from her mind, she concentrated more keenly on what surrounded her. The streaks of white were all around, as before, already having embedded themselves in the galaxy ahead. Firmly entrenched. Unlike before, when she had seen them establish their positions, now she saw them after this – fixed.

  She focused on the large streak nearest to her. A tube of pure whiteness. It looked innocent. Gil wished she could understand what it really represented, and where it came from. What it was. She could call it the manifested, visible sensespace, but that was simply a name. It did not tell her anything about what constituted the sensespace.

  There were no longer any bulges being transmitted down the tubes, as there had been before. Whatever process had been occurring during her first vision had changed or finished. The packages that the sensespace streaks had transmitted into the expansive galaxy ahead were already delivered. With the realisation that the streaks were no longer what was most interesting about the scene ahead, and that she was unlikely to be able to learn anything from observing them, she settled on another task.

  Struggling through the mental effort, she focused on turning her presence around, willing her vantage point to reverse. It was as though she was back in her physical body, pushing against a triamond wall. She was even weaker than before. She continued her attempts, before giving up. There was nothing she could do.

  Whether it was brought on by her actions, or some other change, she felt it, again. That glimmer of a presence behind her, tantalisingly close. It made her want to look even more, renewing her vigour. If only she could… it was gone.

  Dejected and weak, she gave up for the second time. It was too much. She waited, without choice, and reflected upon what she knew, until she found herself drifting, and recognised the feeling. It was the same, subtle, precursive sensation to her exit from this particular experience before.

  Still desperate to see behind her, she mounted a final struggle against the oppressive force blocking her from turning and was surprised to find it gone. She spun around too fast, returning to her original position with only a quick, fleeting imprint, confused.

  What she thought she had registered did not make sense, it was too hazy and ill-defined. An infinite array of presences – barely distinguishable instances of observation, all focused directly on her own. At her own infinite eyes. She was mistaken, she had to be. She was about to attempt another turn when she was thrust forwards, towards the white streaks.

  *

  She saw her younger self begin to climb the old tree near the perimeter of the commune, reaching up and grabbing the branches. She did not want to see what came next, she knew what was going to happen. She shut her infinite eyes, and pushed against the sensespace, wanting to leave.

  *

  The whispers were gone, and she was back observing the forest. She knew immediately where she was, and focused her presence on find
ing them. Unlike her fall from the tree, she wanted to observe this again.

  Her father was walking with Yul in the same part of the forest as before, some way from the commune. Everything about it was the same. Her father’s measured, sure-footed movements next to the hulking, comparatively lumbering Yul.

  She watched them, excitedly, not wanting the moment to end. Another chance to see him and hear his voice. Their movements were the same as before. Gil decided to concentrate her presence behind her father, to see if he would still notice her. The last time, it had seemed so clear that he had seen her presence in front of him, which had caused him to disappear with Yul. This time she could test whether she had been mistaken.

  After a few moments, he slowed down, turned his head back and scanned his green eyes around, his face impassive. His eyes settled on her, and he turned back before Yul had any cause to be curious.

  This was not what had happened the other time, Gil was sure beyond any doubt that her own memory was not at fault – before, he had not turned his head around at all. He had definitely seen her, this time and the last, although the manner of his observation was different. She was conflicted, unsure whether to be elated, or upset at what was to come – if events unfolded the same as before and he vanished.

  Her father began to slow his paces, as she knew he would. Turning sideways so that one shoulder was almost pointing forwards, he twisted his neck and looked at her squarely with both eyes. The same look of light curiosity as the last time took hold of him. He turned back around, and her presence moved up ahead to face him. His expression became more serious. Everything was proceeding the same, aside from how he had turned to find her new position.

  Also as before, Yul’s movements, turning to look at her father, distracted her. He had seen his companion’s odd actions and wanted an explanation, although, again, her father did not acknowledge this. With a familiar movement, he looked downwards towards the ground, before raising his gaze towards the sky with both arms out wide, and stopped.

  They both stood motionless, until her father brought his hands down to his side and tilted his head to a forward-looking position. Breathing deeply in and out, as though steadying his nerves, he looked directly at Yul.

  “Yul.”

  Her father spoke, just as he had before.

  “Yul, we go no further.”

  That was not exactly the same as she remembered.

  “We must, to find–” Yul started.

  “Do not worry, it will be fine,” her father said.

  Gil was certain this was different to before.

  “You want us to go back?” Yul said.

  “No.”

  “Then what do you mean?”

  “Tell me, look back to our commune. What do you sense?”

  “My son, Ril. And your children, Tor and Gil. They are–”

  “They are fine.”

  “My… sphere is weaker than it should be,” Yul said, frowning.

  “They will be fine, Yul.”

  “What do you mean?” Yul looked at her father innocently, despite his size.

  Her father said nothing.

  “What has happened?” Yul said.

  “They will not be able to sense us for now, and neither will you be able to sense them.”

  “What do you… my sphere is… it’s going, I can’t–”

  “Be calm, Yul.”

  “You… you’re not… you’re not in my sphere…” The large man took a step back, away from her father. “I can’t sense anything from you anymore. Can… can you sense me?”

  “You could only ever sense what I let you.”

  “But your sphere, surely–”

  “I am not joined.”

  “The sphere? What do you mean, of course, you–”

  “You’ll understand.”

  “I don’t understand… what’s happening?”

  “Ril, the others, they are the first, but they will not be the last.” Her father looked at Yul sadly. “That is the threat.” He almost hissed the last word.

  Yul still looked confused, as was Gil. What her father was saying made no sense. Yul looked as though he wanted to take another step back. He was frightened.

  “Why not use it–”

  “No.”

  “Wh–”

  “It’s forbidden.”

  “That makes no sense, how did you… I know you can…”

  “It will.”

  “What do you mean? Why not use–”

  “It would have uncovered me.”

  “Using your sphere would have–”

  “It would have made things worse.”

  “But… what?”

  “My children will have to be strong.”

  “Why?”

  “They are needed.”

  “What for?” Yul looked panicked and began rambling. “I do not think Tor will want to be a hunter, his sphere will be too strong, you can tell… and Gil–”

  “Not that, Yul,” her father said, softly but without further explanation.

  Yul tilted his head a little to the side and looked around in frustration. He then stepped forwards, closer to her father, at last saying, “Then what are they needed for?”

  “To finally put a stop to it, to end all spheres. It costs too much.”

  Was her father saying this for Yul’s benefit, or hers? Was he communicating with her through this… memory? If he was capable of this, why did he not speak with her directly? Could he not see her?

  “You want them to destroy the commune?”

  “In a way, yes. They must.”

  “To destroy our commune? Our way of life?”

  “The way of life must change, it’s necessary.”

  “Why, you believe we are in danger?”

  “We are, Yul. Great danger.”

  “We can fight! Ril can help, he is strong–”

  “Not this, my old friend. Not in the way you think.”

  “And Tor, Gil, they can help?”

  “I hope they can. They must.”

  “How?” Yul asked.

  Her father flashed a glance around and stopped. It looked as though he was concerned about being overheard, but she did not think she was the one worrying him. Was there someone else, besides her?

  “How?” Yul repeated, more loudly.

  “We aren’t supposed to become involved. Not anymore – but look at what we did.”

  “What do you mean? Who–”

  “It’s our fault.”

  “What is?”

  “I am sorry, I really am.”

  “What are you going to do?” Yul’s eyes began to widen.

  “I don’t want to, I never did.”

  “What are you going to do?” He repeated.

  “The time has come.”

  Gil was worried. This was what her father said before, she recognised it.

  “For what?”

  “The end of my interference.”

  “What is this you speak of?”

  “There are rules, Yul. I will have to… atone.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Even though it was right, to act as I did... Please, forgive me. Ril will be fine, I promise you this.”

  “What will happen?”

  “It is time for us to leave.”

  “The commune?”

  Her father laughed, kindly.

  “Where are you going?” Yul pressed, again, frowning.

  “We go somewhere… with no restrictions. Out of this space.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will.”

  And then they were gone, again, and Gil was alone.

  *

  She was back looking at the sensespace streaks fixed onto the galaxy before her. The same vision as before. The thick white constructs that formed its bridge.

  The whispers remained quiet, lower than their typical background level. It was as though she was being given room to think, to contemplate what she had been shown. She moved her presence arou
nd, gazing at the white streaks. Moving fast, diffusing her presence in all directions, it was everywhere. The entire cross-section of the galaxy, as far as she could bear to go before losing her cohesiveness and drawing back into herself.

  She wanted to think about what her father had said, but felt like this was another opportunity, somehow. What was the sensespace trying to show her? She was missing something. Was the sensespace trying to draw her to some sort of conclusion – a requirement to act?

  She remembered what she had briefly glimpsed before, when she had turned around and seen what was behind her. That infinite array, peering at her own set of eyes. She was not sure if she wanted to see it again, or whether she would be able to. It was frightening, everything was. It was all bigger than her. What her father had said, and the experiences the sensespace was showing her – she still understood so little. She was being fed morsels of information, pushed in certain directions, while realising that there were monumental… powers, all vying for her attention. Whatever that array of eyes was, that had met her own, it was so much… larger, than she was. That may have been the point, the sensespace’s message. She was incapable of understanding. She had to make a choice.

  The sensespace appeared to connect her father with whatever had created it. It had shown her that he had a control over it – he had admitted as much to Yul – and it had taken her back to its origins. Either it was showing her the truth, or it was attempting to manipulate her to its own ends. Or both.

  The more Gil thought about it, the less sure she became. Her thoughts kept trailing back to her father. Who was he? What was he? To have created Gil, to have had a hand in all of this… Had he really helped create the sensespace? The infection that had destroyed more lives than she could ever count.

  Giving up, she resigned herself to waiting for whatever the sensespace had in store for her next. As though sensing her desire to move on, the spacescape around her changed.

  *