by M T McGuire
“Er ...” he struggled, “I think it’s the idea that small actions can have consequences which spread out, like the ripples in a pool, so they get bigger and bigger, so by, say, walking to the right of a lamp post instead of the left I can cause a series of unspecified small changes in space and time which could eventually add up to something big and cataclysmic.”
“Very good,” said the old man. “So if a man made prophecies forty generations ago, which were to be accurate today, he had to account for people like you walking the wrong side of lamp posts.”
“Er, I suppose he did.”
“Indeed. So predicting anything happening as far into his future as we are now would take remarkable skill.”
“Mmm,” said The Pan, beginning to see how Arnold of Nim’s prophetic abilities might be viewed in a new light, “perhaps.”
“Most certainly. You are right in that the Holy Prophet did give us options, but only because of the nature of reality. Do you know much Reality Theory?”
The Pan cleared his throat.
“Yes,” he began before deciding that on this occasion, honesty was the best policy, “well actually, no.”
“Did you not pay any attention in school?” asked the old man, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
The Pan shrugged. This was like being questioned by a teacher – he was twelve, in trouble and being told off by the headmaster again. He could feel a blush rising.
“Not as much as I should have done,” he said, “but even if I had, I wouldn’t have got to study the Philosophy of Reality. I never made it as far as the sixth form.”
The old man smiled benignly.
“No,” he said, “no, of course not. I’m sorry. Talking to you, it’s easy to forget,” another sly compliment, The Pan noticed. “Well, it’s quite straightforward. Reality Theory is like this: let’s say, for argument’s sake, that you decide to walk past that lamp post on the left-hand side. Somewhere in another version of space and time another you is walking to the right.”
“What about the real one?” asked The Pan, “the one who isn’t looking where he is going and walks into the lamp post.”
“This is a metaphorical situation,” said the old man cheerfully, “let’s keep it simple shall we? What would you say if I told you that for each time we make a choice, we create another universe where another version of ourselves, in another dimension of space and time is making a different decision?”
“I’d ask you to show me the one with no Grongles in it and I’d move there.”
“This is no laughing matter.”
“Do you see me laughing?”
The old man smiled sadly.
“No,” he paused. “Well?”
The Pan held his hands up for a moment and let them drop to his sides.
“It sounds plausible enough to me,” he said slowly.
“It is. Now, if The Prophet is to predict the events of tomorrow, he must be sure of the outcome of this small act of yours. Not only must he first identify which decision will be made by the version of you living in this dimension, but he must also decide what effects your decision will cause. Ninety-nine point nine per cent of these small decisions don’t significantly alter our future, and time will continue upon its predestined framework. However, the other fraction of the percentage will sculpt a new destiny for us all. They are seemingly small things but nonetheless key factors which will shift our tomorrow. When he made his prophecies Arnold had to account for each one of those tiny events which was likely to occur between his then and our now, and identify which would affect our future and which would not.”
“Ah,” said The Pan who was beginning to appreciate how this could get complicated. “So what you’re saying is, in theory by doing something as simple as walking to the left or right of a lamp post, I could change the entire future of this planet to one which didn’t involve Grongles.”
“You can’t write them out of existence but you could cause some effect, some sea change in their make-up, which might alter the nature of their role in the world.”
“Or a terminal illness in Lord Vernon?” suggested The Pan.
“Even if it were known how to bring that about, to do so would not be ethical,” said the old man.
“Shame,” said The Pan before he could shut himself up. He shouldn’t have said that in front of someone who might well be a priest. “This hasn’t happened already has it? I mean, is that how they got to us?”
“A very pertinent question. One we have no way of answering.”
“Well, surely it’s reasonably straightforward to make things better. Wouldn’t you just find out when an important event is due to take place and make sure it causes the Grongles to want to go home?”
“Not as such. That would be too specific. We are only permitted to alter destiny for the better and in a way that will not adversely affect other realities.”
But they were still able, and allowed, to alter it. Arnold in the skies!
“There will not be an event of that nature in this dimension of space and time for some years.”
“Can’t you manufacture one artificially?” asked The Pan.
“Indeed—but it is far from easy,” said the old man. “And it can only be attempted with access to certain pieces of equipment.” He held up the bag and shook it so the objects inside chinked together. “Unfortunately, while you have inadvertently unearthed a substantial portion of the things we need, we don’t have everything.”
“You don’t?” asked The Pan, who was beginning to have a horrible idea where this conversation might be heading.
“No and it is unlikely we will ever find the things we need,” said the old man.
“So no changing space-time then?”
“Since we are unable to do so safely, no. At least, not unless we absolutely have to.”
“Is there an alternative option?”
“Oh yes. Many of the artefacts you have discovered are used in the Looking, the process of searching for a new Candidate for the position of Architrave. They may help us, since, alas, no Candidate was agreed upon when the Looking was last conducted.”
“Is that usual?”
“No.”
“I see. Well, I dunno if it’s any help but one of the few things I remember about the last search was thinking my father didn’t like the way it was being done. He didn’t mention he was involved in the Looking but he used to talk about how this country needed a Candidate to get rid of the Grongles. He used to say there had to be one, if only the people searching were able to check the right places. There was nothing concrete, nothing disloyal—Dad was good like that—just hints. The way he spoke, I always thought the problem was that they couldn’t look where they needed to, but he was never the same after that time and now I think maybe he fell out with them because they refused to look where he wanted them to.”
“Your father didn’t suffer fools gladly, or take the word ‘no’ well,” said the old man with a smile, “he could be a little abrasive with his colleagues at times if he didn’t get his way.”
“Yes, well, he was the same at home after that.”
The old man seemed thoughtful for a moment.
“He was under a great deal of strain, more than you can imagine.”
“I’m sure he was and, rest assured, he shared it generously,” said The Pan, and regretted it immediately.
“He was a man trying to do what was right for his people.” The old man’s tone was unruffled, and yet The Pan could tell he was angry. “It may not have made him a perfect parent, but he would have known that and it would have cut him to the quick.”
The Pan couldn’t meet the old man’s eyes anymore, so he bowed his head and examined the carpet around his feet.
“In your heart of hearts, my boy, I believe you understand that.”
Yes, The Pan realised, he did. “I’m sorry, ignore me, I’m bitter and twisted,” he said.
The old man smiled kindly, “And almost as hard on yourself as he
was. But he may have been right about the Looking. The old Architrave was beheaded before his time, so it may be that the new Candidate was then too young to be identified; he might not even have been born at that stage. Their arrival in itself will be a significant enough event to alter our reality without damage to others. It would be a tiny shift but it would suffice to make the Grongles change or go home. However, our problem is this: even if the Candidate is of age, or alive, all the signs would be unlikely to manifest themselves until the hour at which the Architrave’s death would naturally have taken place. The Architrave was only fifty when the Grongles murdered him, and it may be another ten or fifteen years before his natural time. Even if we were able to conduct the Looking again we would simply end up with the same problem. It would be impossible to determine, with absolute certainty, whether or not our choice was the Candidate, until all the signs were present.”
“Isn’t there a shortcut? Forty generations is a long time, there must have been the odd blip with the Looking. You can’t make me believe we’ve managed hundreds of years of smooth government without some kind of contingency plan for when it goes wrong. It would have been chaos.”
“Indeed and for that exact reason there is one vital artefact which would allow us to establish the Candidate’s credentials beyond reasonable doubt. Unfortunately, despite your friends’ fine efforts locating these,” he gestured with the bag of loot again, “we don’t yet have it.”
‘Yet’ – another worrying word. He paused, and The Pan waited.
“There is a further difficulty. In situations where no Candidate exists, it is possible, with the right knowledge and equipment, to set up a fake, to make an ordinary individual able to pass enough of the physical and spiritual tests to be made Architrave, even though he is not the true Candidate. As you might imagine, it is difficult to disprove the candidacy once it has been accepted by the people, no matter who the individual might be or how strong the evidence against him. As matters stand now, the true Candidate would be no more credible than such a fake.”
“But how can you fake a Candidate? I thought there were signs. That hasn’t happened before has it?” asked The Pan. He was confused. Surely if there had been any false Candidates he’d have been taught about it in history?
“Only once, several centuries ago in a similar situation to our own; when the Architrave died young and no Candidate was found. That time, the false Candidate was on the side of good and under the authority of the elders. She was carefully chosen and she merely stepped into the role to assure continuity. Eventually, the Looking succeeded, the true Candidate was found and the succession assured. It was then that the special equipment we seek was designed; to ensure such a vacuum never occurred again and that the Looking could never be what you term ‘chaos’.”
“So why not set up an interim, a fake Candidate like that?” said The Pan.
“Because there are already two false Candidates and there is nothing like being, as the sales people put it, ‘first to market’ in situations like this. It is too late for us to catch up unless we can find the real McCoy, and while I have my own theories as to who that might be, without the artefact I refer to, it would take time and resources to confirm my view—time and resources we don’t have. The forerunner, for the Candidacy, at present, is Lord Vernon.”
Chapter 36
“Are you sure?” asked The Pan. “If Lord Vernon was setting himself up to be the Candidate, I’d have thought the Grongles would have announced it – or at least be preparing the ground. There’s no sign of that.”
“Oh, it’ll take him a month or two but he has been researching, learning and preparing for years and he has already begun the process. If he succeeds, the people will believe he is destined to rule K’Barth and all effective resistance will cease.” The Pan tried not to look nonplussed but he knew it wasn’t working. He could almost feel the old man’s frustration at having to spell out every little thing.
“Let me explain. Nobody likes being ruled by the Grongles do they?”
“Of course not,” The Pan agreed. He checked himself, “Well, thinking about it, that’s not one hundred per cent true, some people are sort of enjoying it. I mean, Denarghi wouldn’t be much without it, would he? And there are the black marketeers—what will they do if things are stable and there isn’t a black market?”
“Exactly,” said the old man, “and then there are the people. They will get used to buying illegal goods, they will get used to the status quo and before you know it, they will start accepting it. They have learned the dos and don’ts, know how it all works, and unless they are being directly persecuted, they will begin to get comfortable. They will start thinking that life isn’t so bad if they keep their heads down and don’t get involved. The Grongles run an ordered, if not strictly free, society and when people ignore the problems, whether through apathy or self-preservation, they start to see the benefits in keeping things the way they are.”
“The trains run on time,” said The Pan drily, “Arnold knows they never used to. Is that the type of thing you’re talking about?”
“Indeed, a simple case of investment, efficient maintenance and intelligent route scheduling. Nothing we couldn’t have achieved on our own. Strange how the Grongles are given credit for that, don’t you think?”
“You mean, people only have so much fight in them before they give up and accept things the way they are?”
“Yes and no. We are adaptable, which is usually an asset but it also means we get used to things very quickly. So, if an injustice goes on for long enough, it becomes normal and people are blinded to it. In this regime people disappear every day without trial, but that doesn’t make it just, even if it has become normal.”
“Mmm. I see your point but aren’t you up against nature on this one?” asked The Pan.
“No,” said the old man firmly.
“Really? I mean, won’t people believe whatever they want to believe, regardless? They don’t need Lord Vernon’s help to start thinking like that, it’s their fundamental make-up. For most people, day-to-day living is broadly similar, whoever is in charge. All they want is a quiet life, so when things are bad or dangerous, they keep their heads down. They know what will happen to their families and the people they love if they make too much noise, so they say, ‘I’ll take care of the little island round me and keep that right. I’ll start small.’ They never admit the real reason; that it’s too scary and too dangerous to think big. No-one will resist the Grongles unless there’s somebody braver and stronger for them all to stand behind, and there isn’t.”
“And there you have it, proof positive that by planning to set himself up as a false Candidate Lord Vernon is already beginning to affect space and time, himself.”
“Not necessarily, I’m known to be sceptical. What about the other false Candidate?”
“I believe the Resistance are attempting to set up one of their own, but they are not being as clever about it as Lord Vernon.”
A stark choice then. When it came to the nitty-gritty of bog-standard existence, there wouldn’t be much difference between those two. Despite their directly opposing ideologies, their stances on things like free speech and democracy were surprisingly similar.
“I don’t mean to be discouraging, but that’s not much of a choice—civil liberty isn’t a big issue with the Resistance any more than it is with Lord Vernon.”
“We may be able to influence the Resistance.”
That was a bit optimistic. The Pan felt his eyes rolling before he could stop himself.
“I take it you’ve never met any of them,” he said tartly. “They’re exactly the same as the Grongles only better brainwashed and more efficient. You’d have more luck trying to herd cats than influence the Resistance.”
“Do you argue the toss with everyone like this?”
“Yes,” said The Pan. “Look. I don’t mean to be rude, but neither of the false options appeals does it? I’d have thought with the skills you have you’d be bet
ter off running yourself, or finding your missing bit of stuff and validating the real one. You can’t bank on manipulating people, it never works and in the short time you’ve been here, even I have seen enough to realise you are way too smart to make a plan that stupid—unless you’re working with a committee? You’re not though, are you?”
There was an uncomfortable pause.
“The pressing issue, now, is to stop Lord Vernon.”
Not a totally straight answer; no reference to The Pan’s actual query. In other words, no reference to the real plan. He had to admire the old man’s courage, though. A few nutters tried every now and again, but nobody stopped Lord Vernon.
“What if Lord Vernon doesn’t want to be stopped?” he said.
“There are many ways to resist,” said the old boy, smiling. “Perhaps, it is more a case of delay than out and out opposition. However, we do need to lay our hands on our ‘missing bit of stuff’ as you call it and ensure it is kept from Lord Vernon’s clutches. When the true Candidate is identified beyond argument, then no matter how carefully he has prepared himself, Lord Vernon will fail.”
“A lot of people believe there won’t be another Candidate.”
“Once again, your view merely proves my point. Lord Vernon’s work has already begun, the hearts and minds of the people are turning. Yes, the thread is weak now, but if we are able to validate the Candidate it will never be broken.”
The Pan sighed.
“I wish I could share your optimism.”
“You don’t believe me, do you?” said the old man. The Pan shook his head, it was more complicated than that. He knew the old man believed what he was saying and deep down he knew that he wanted to believe it, too. He would almost stake his life that everything he’d been told was true, but whether those truths related to one another in the way the old man had presented them was a different question. He guessed not.
“It isn’t that your theory doesn’t appeal, more that you’ve chosen the world’s most cynical person to expound it to.” He smiled; that wasn’t a lie, but he hadn’t said whether or not he believed the old man, either. He could be evasive, too. “I gave up hoping for a miracle a long time ago.” The Pan knew he hadn’t given up, he simply couldn’t afford himself the luxury of hoping for anything anymore. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong,” he said, “I’m not quite so self-pitying, but I’d like to think I’m a realist. Reading between the lines, it sounds like you have found the Candidate, and stalling Lord Vernon is important because they’re only four and you have to wait for them to grow up.”