by Nick M Lloyd
Klope was concerned. ‘Further north maybe what…kind sir?
‘Further north you may find news of him…but not here. There are too many who blame him for the bombings.’ The dock worker left, leaving Klope and his fellow Disciples to consider their position.
Klope shook his head. ‘I thought the entire continent of Lokis was behind him. What changed?’ The Disciples had no answer, and they moved off. They walked for a few hours through Fairport. The city seemed relatively unscathed physically, but the few open shops showed extremely inflated prices for foodstuffs.
As they walked on through the city, Klope’s group were being watched by anyone who happened to be out. It didn’t seem like an organised observation, just the green and white robes were acting as a beacon. Klope looked around, and here and there were local militia, also watching. At one point Klope thought he saw a flash of a green and white robe, but in an instant it was gone. Klope shook his head. I’m seeing things.
At a coaching station, they were turned away—no travel out of the city without a licence, a precaution to stop looting of nearby farms.
By lunchtime the Disciples were attracting the explicit attention of soldiers. There were now four soldiers trailing the group. Klope turned to the other Disciples. ‘It may be that they’re waiting for reinforcements, or maybe not, but I don’t think we‘re welcome here.’
One Disciple, named Unzer, nodded. ‘I am not welcome here. I fear for you all. I will be protected in my world but I cannot vouch for you also.’
Klope walked over to Unzer and gently squeezed his arm. ‘Do not be alarmed, my brother, it is the same for all of us. And just because we are all players in each other’s worlds it doesn’t mean we do not feel empathy for their suffering. In my world, you will be saved. Come!’ Klope turned and, moving at faster pace, they trotted due north towards what appeared to be a city gate a mile or so away.
Within five minutes there were eight guards following them, still 100 metres behind. Up ahead the gates were visible and open. There appeared to be a few guards but they did not seem to be paying much attention to the group of Disciples.
Klope closed his eyes and offered a short prayer to the keeper of the Parallels. Please find me a safe path through the possibilities.
The gate guards started to take notice of the Disciples. One of the gate guards unshouldered his rifle. Behind the Disciples the group following were similarly taking out hand guns and rifles. Klope’s heart started to race.
Within 50 metres of the gate, one of the gate guards called out. ‘Stop there. You’re under arrest.’
Klope raised his hands in supplication. ‘Good sir, we are just Disciples of the Prophet travelling north to be with him.’
The gate guard’s face remained impassive. ‘Kneel on the ground. We’re taking you in.’
Klope looked around, the guards behind them had stopped 50 metres short of them; many weapons were being aimed. To the north, Klope thought he could see movement on the main road, a few miles outside the city, but he couldn’t make out any details. He turned to the others. ‘I think we trust in The Many to keep us safe in custody.’ There were a few nods of agreement.
Unzer shook his head. ‘I am sorry, brothers, for your fate in my world, but I cannot guarantee a safe route for you. I have learned something over the last years about riding the parallels. I have to go.’ Suddenly he screamed and ran towards the gate, shouting. ‘By The Many, I travel the paths to my safety.’ He ran towards the gate, but between him and the gateway five heavily armed guards raised their weapons as one. Shots rang out, Unzer was shredded and his body slumped to the ground.
Klope shook his head, tears in his eyes. ‘Perhaps in his world he survived, but I cannot see how it could be—and certainly not in mine.’ What did he mean, riding the parallels?
The soldiers had their weapons all trained on the Disciples. One move, one reason, and they would be cut down too. Klope watched as one of the gate guards walked up to Unzer’s body and tapped it with the toe of his boot, Unzer was finished.
The gate guard jerked his rifle at the Disciples. ‘On your knees, now!’
The other Disciples all kneeled. Klope kneeled. He looked north, the dust on the highway travelling towards the city resolved into a few jeeps. They were coming fast. The gate guards began to take notice. A rifle was raised. Shots were fired. The shots were returned, but where lead slugs were being sent towards the approaching jeeps, the returned fire was fire, great bolts launching through the air. The Disciples scattered, and all the guards started to shoot, some at the jeeps but some at the Disciples.
Klope felt a pain radiating through his body, and then his world went black.
Chapter 46
On Friday afternoon, Mike drove himself, and a quietly humming Bob, to Jack Bullage’s house. Mike looked anxiously for road signs announcing they were getting close to Chiswick. ‘Stop humming and help me look for the house.’
‘I can do both, you know. He’s just round the back of Chiswick House; we could walk it in twenty minutes.’
Mike gave Bob a sidelong glance. ‘Keep up the humming and you’ll be testing your assertion.’
Bob smiled. He also stopped humming. ‘I’ve arranged for the Pryson Lab this weekend. It’s got the required EM shielding.’
‘The Pryson, nice choice. The observation office makes me feel like I’m in a virus movie.’
‘That’s the one.’ Bob paused. ‘So, will Jeff come and help us set up tonight?’
Mike nodded. ‘And I’ve got all the kit in the boot.’
‘And I’ve got this.’ Bob took out his portable scanner. ‘Bugs beware.’
‘Have you found anything unusual with it?’
‘Nothing yet.’ He swept the inside of the car. ‘But the world is awash with radiation, and I don’t know what I’m looking for.’ He put it back in his jacket pocket. ‘Inside the lab it may be useful.’
‘Don’t start pointing it at Jack today.’ Mike paused. ‘So let’s go through the story again.’
‘Just as we said, we’re doing a government sponsored investigation into stress, trauma, mental cognitive function and physical reflexes.’
‘And he bought it?’
‘Well, we’re invited over.’
‘Have you had any more thoughts on the science?’
Bob shook his head. ‘I don’t think this is a case of hypothesise and then test. I think it’s a case of test and then retrofit. But if Jack can influence a coin in a closed box, or similar, then we’ll have to start with Schrodinger.’
Mike smiled to himself. ‘Or Many-Worlds?’
‘Maybe, but I worry about the near infinite energy requirement to fuel all those new universes.’
‘We got a Big Bang in our universe, from nowhere.’ Mike paused. ‘And we find it pretty normal to divide by zero when required.’ He raised an eyebrow, no reaction from Bob.
‘We’re tearing up the rule book.’
‘Not entirely, if you were to combine Many-Worlds with some type of time smearing, there could be the concept of a sneak preview of the possible outcomes.’
‘Time smearing? So no conservation of energy; no 2nd Law.’
‘H bar, delta E, delta T…maybe?’
‘Bollocks…Okay, so you have some free information; how do you influence the choice of which future you play out in?’
‘No idea.’ Mike looked straight ahead. ‘So what’s your great idea?’
‘I don’t have one.’
‘But you hate my time-smeared-many-world.’
‘To paraphrase an alumni of, and poster-boy for, NLUST, I choose not to believe it.’
‘So guess something else.’
‘Carrier waves, hidden variables, observer interaction, anything but MWI.’
‘Why?’
Bob did not reply but started to hum.
The notes were wrong, and the tempo was wrong, but Mike was pretty sure it was I vow to thee my
country.
Jack looked out of the window for the fifth time in as many minutes. They were not here yet. He pulled out the printed confirmation email and gave it another look. Government investigation? Well it couldn’t hurt.
He’d returned from his daily drive at 2pm and spent the last hour tidying, tweaking, and wholesale rearranging his front room furniture. He looked at his mantelpiece again. Should I take away the photo of Sarah? He paused and then walked back into the kitchen, leaving the photo as it was.
There were a few unopened letters on the table. They looked like insurance claim correspondence—he couldn’t face the stress right now. He went back into the front room and sat down on the sofa. He turned on the television; after a few minutes he flicked channels, and then again, and again; there was nothing of use on. He turned it off. His eyes drifted over to the mantelpiece, his prescription sedatives. Maybe just one pill to help me relax before they arrive. Then none tomorrow. Jack reached for the diazepam but stopped short of picking up the packet. Every morning he woke up determined to get off the damned pills and went to sleep each evening with very peaceful resolve to give them up the next day. Not today.
He picked up a book; it held his attention for a minute and then the frustration hit him and it was returned to the pile. He got up and paced around the room, stopping only to look at the photo of Sarah on his mantelpiece. Sarah, Sarah, Sarah. He walked around the room again, looked out of the window and wondered just when they would arrive and what they were going to do to him. He switched on his computer. The hard drive was acting up and he had to switch it on and off four or five times before it actually got through to the home screen. Technology hates me.
The doorbell rang. Jack invited Bob and Mike in.
Bob held out his identification card. ‘Jack, thank you for agreeing to meet us. Hopefully, after we’ve explained our position, you will be happy to take part in some clinical tests we’re doing.’
Jack nodded, and led them into the front room.
Once they were seated, Bob continued his introduction. ‘We understand you don’t have any physical damage to inhibit your motor neurone skills, so we think you are a prime candidate for us to test to see if there is a stress-related impact.’ Pausing for a moment, Bob looked around the room.
Jack noticed Bob’s eyes came to rest on the pills on the mantelpiece. Shame may be the best incentive to get off them. ‘I’m trying to get off them, but it’s hard, they’re really a safety blanket. I don’t take many.’ He looked down at the floor.
Mike interrupted. ‘Given what you’ve been through, it’s a totally understandable transitory usage.’ Then he looked to Bob to continue.
‘Sooner is better as, if you’ll pardon my expression, we need you fresh. So we’d like you to perform some basic tests tomorrow—mostly focusing on eye recognition and reflexes.’
Again Mike interrupted. ‘Have you noticed any degradation in your hand-eye coordination?’
‘If anything, my hand-eye coordination is improving. But, overall, I’m not coping too well with the stress. I feel very different since the crash.’
‘Different?’
‘I feel removed from reality, as if I’m watching myself in a movie, not actually here.’
Jack caught Bob and Mike sharing another meaningful glance. ‘For instance, I saw the look you just shared. I’m not mad. Not yet, anyway.’ He paused, and Bob nodded for him to continue. ‘It’s just some strange things seem to be happening to me. Technology failures, and other stuff, strange stuff…Okay then, show me your forms; I can tell you all about it tomorrow.’
Pulling out the waiver forms he had drawn up, Bob passed them to Jack.
Jack reviewed them quickly and signed.
Mike leant forward. ‘How do you want to get to us on Saturday? You can come directly to the university by yourself, or if you’d prefer I can pick you up from here?’
‘No, it’s fine, thanks. I’ll drive to the university. My doctor’s orders are to drive a little each day.’
‘Can you give an example now of a strange thing that has happened?’
‘As I said, I’ll tell you tomorrow but, as an example, my catching seems to have really improved in the last few weeks. Twice I have dropped something from a kitchen cupboard and managed to catch it before it fell to the ground.’ He paused. ‘I almost wonder if I’m developing super-hero reactions!’
Mike smiled. ‘Maybe you should buy a mask…and a cape?’
Jack smiled half-heartedly.
After a few more pleasantries, Jack walked them back to the door. Shutting it behind them, Jack felt a sense of relief. It couldn’t hurt…
Molly Saunders’ diaries arrived as promised and James Chambers immediately started scanning them for references to Project Hedgehog. His interest had been piqued by the information relating to FibonacciEddie, and then further stimulated by Dougy Raddlestone.
James found a number of chapters associated with the 1960s. He skipped past comments about Cold War spy rings, deals with Castro and regime change plans for a number of European countries (not all Eastern European). In total, he found only eight lines under the title Project Hedgehog.
‘The Hedgehog farce continues and, although the results are amazing, the programme is plagued with technical glitches and strange occurrences. PM has asked for us to close it down; this is a massive reversal from last year. He is worried Subject G disappeared after showing impressive results particularly when subjected to fear and pain stimuli. The service was slow to put a lid on this. A shame to close it down; it would have given us the jump on eagle and bear. We’ll have to disband Platoon Z00A, they’ll return to the SAS.’
James searched the MOD databases for references to Platoon Z00A. It was unclear whether the unit was currently active or not; there were tantalising hints, but nothing substantial. However, he did find a service roster from as late as 1999 listing four soldiers. James cross-referenced them and a Lieutenant Sebastien (now Major Sebastien) appeared to be operational. His personal record on the MOD systems was almost blank.
He hadn’t forgotten about the report he would have to make to his controller but, on reflection, decided to wait until he had a bit more to say. He didn’t want to expose himself to ridicule, or budget oversight, until he was certain.
James picked up the phone to contact Major Sebastien. He left a message explaining his position, saying that he was trying to build up a picture of Project Hedgehog and explicitly asking about Platoon Z00A’s role.
Chapter 47
Justio sat in the crew room at the main desk. The walls were covered with video footage and associated data, including transcripts of recent conversations of the main Earth participants. He positioned his chair to see the main wall and the entrance doorway. Aytch was preparing for his trip to Earth, but could come in at any moment.
The recent two public transcripts from Gadium concerning Vantch were displayed on the wall. The content was trite—Full Emergence Conflict—Potential GF Insurgence. However, a new message from his GF controller was more serious. They’re closing in on Commander Jenkins.
If Aytch was to find out Commander Jenkins was a senior GF operative then trouble would be close behind.
A flash on his communications tablet warned Justio that Aytch had left his cabin. He quickly killed a few data feeds on the wall before leaning back and taking up a relaxed posture.
Aytch was not relaxed. He powered into the room. ‘I’m ready to go.’
Justio indicated the recent conversations Mike and Bob had had with Jack Bullage. ‘They’re all set for testing tomorrow, but Jack will be at home tonight.’
Aytch growled. ‘We have to get him now!’
‘I will set up the arrest for midnight and he’ll be delivered to Hampstead by 1am.’
‘You’re sure you can get him into the Heath?’
‘I’m sure, I’ll just cut into the police radio and say a woman’s screams were heard, can they have a quick lo
ok.’ Misdirection was easy when you were able to replicate any message, sounds, content, format and style—even voice could be 100% effectively imitated.
‘Anything else?’
‘They’ve got themselves a passive EM scanner. I’ve recalibrated all the mini-bots to high security: short distance, directional, burst transmissions. I will be fine. On the other hand, their laboratory is high tech and the black-out inside will be total—so we’ll not be getting real-time feeds.’
‘Well, they won’t have Jack Bullage by tomorrow, anyway.’
‘Exactly.’
Aytch spent a few moments looking around, and then left.
Alone again, Justio looked back at the various feeds. The increase of activity related to Jenkins had influenced him to alter his plans. The original idea was a Full Emergence that was just generally mismanaged, ultimately leading to a catastrophe, but in baby steps—maximum reputational damage to Gadium. Bad stewardship.
But with time pressing, he was happy to move to a second plan. Jack would be at the tests on Saturday. The Gadium mission would have failed to keep a Triple Alpha away from intrusive tests. And soon, the humans would discover Emergence all for themselves. There were plenty of Alphas on Earth to convert and it would lead to devastation. Less good propaganda for GF, as it could simply be labelled as personal failure in his and Aytch’s actions. Good enough under pressure.
He just had to ensure that it all looked accidental, and that nothing indicated actual GF intervention. And he had to ensure that aliens were not identified by the humans.
Justio tuned into the real-time feeds of Mike, Bob and Jeff. It was early evening, and they were arriving at the campus. They emptied two large boxes from Mike’s car and headed into the building. The feed signal started to struggle as the team went deeper into the campus, then, as they entered the Pryson Room, the signal died. What is their new test?