TIM, Defender of the Earth

by Sam Enthoven

‘What do you mean?’ Mr Sinclair snapped back. ‘I thought you told me Mallahide was dead! What’s he doing on the telly, talking all this nonsense?’

  ‘But that’s just it, sir,’ said Dr Belforth. ‘I’m rather afraid that what he’s saying may not actually be nonsense at all.’ He took a step closer to where the prime minister was sitting. ‘You see, now we know how the nanobots escaped,’ he said. ‘It wasn’t an accident – they were being controlled! And now’ – he gestured at the screen – ‘we know who by.’

  ‘Wait a second,’ said the prime minister. ‘Are you seriously telling me that Professor Mallahide has . . . become a part of this cloud of machine things?’

  ‘That’s correct, sir.’

  ‘But if he can do that . . .’ Mr Sinclair tailed off.

  ‘If he can do that, Prime Minister,’ said Belforth grimly, ‘there’s no telling what he can do.’

  There was a short silence.

  ‘First a giant monster,’ said Mr Sinclair with feeling, ‘and now a cloud of super-intelligent machines. Frankly, I’m starting to wish I’d never got into politics in the first place.’

  ‘. . . Now, some of you, I’m sure,’ Professor Mallahide was saying, ‘will be thinking that I’m some sort of crackpot. “What’s he on about?” you’ll be wondering. Well, for those of you in London to answer your question, all you really have to do is look out of your window.

  ‘Go on,’ said Mallahide, staring out of every TV screen in the country with a mischievous grin. ‘Go on – take a look! You see that cloud over the centre of the capital? This weird orange-brown “haze” that everyone’s been talking about? That’s me. That’s what I’ve become – or rather, that’s how I currently choose to show myself. You see, I can change my form at will. I can take anything in the world and change that, too, into whatever I choose. I have absolute power over all matter, over everything I can touch – but I’m not a dictator. On the contrary,’ he said, ‘this power is something I want to share with every single one of you. Tomorrow morning, at eleven o’clock, I will appear again in Hyde Park. If anyone wishes to speak to me, I will answer all questions then.’

  Back in the school sick bay, Anna looked at her father on the screen. He had never looked happier. ‘Oh, Dad . . .’ she said.

  ‘We’ve had our time as human beings,’ Professor Mallahide announced – now speaking to the whole world. ‘And you know what? We deserve better. With what I can offer, we can have it: we can all, every one of us, be gods.’

  He paused once more, then started smiling again.

  ‘Now, just so you know that what I’m saying is the truth,’ he said, ‘I’ve got a little demonstration for you.’ He winked. ‘I think you’ll like this bit.’

  His eyes took on a look of concentration for a moment, and the view on the screen suddenly changed. Instantly another small portion of his cloud of machines had converted themselves into a sort of makeshift camera: this one, unlike the one Mallahide’s temporary body was speaking to, was outside the building. It swooped around the BT Tower in a vertigo-inducing tracking shot, better than anything that could have been filmed from a helicopter: even under the boiling orange-brown blanket of nanobots, the building’s famous cylindrical shape was instantly recognizable to all who saw it. Then the view changed back to Mallahide’s beaming face.

  ‘I’m going to count down from five,’ he said. ‘When I reach zero, this whole building is going to disappear – each and every atom of it is going to be dismantled instantly. That should show any doubters, I think. So here we go! Five . . .! Four . . .! Three . . .! Two . . .’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Mr Sinclair. ‘Get a squadron of helicopters over there right away!’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir,’ said Dr Belforth, ‘but I think we’re already too late.’

  ‘One!’ said Professor Mallahide. ‘Everybody ready? And . . . zero!’

  Abruptly all the windows of the thirty-fourth floor of the BT Tower seemed to burst inward. The restaurant behind where Professor Mallahide was standing suddenly filled with a boiling, rippling, seething cloud of orange-brown dust-like stuff – the nanobots that Professor Mallahide had just permitted to dismantle the outside of the building.

  Professor Mallahide executed a low and mocking bow –

  – then he too burst apart as the billions of nanobots that had temporarily coalesced into the shape of his old human body were allowed to rejoin the main mass of the swarm.

  At the same instant, the part of the swarm that had turned itself into a camera panned backwards and out into the open air, the better to admire the view of what was happening to the rest of the tower.

  By now, all over the UK, people were gaping. Tea slopped from the edges of overfilled teacups as their owners continued heedlessly to pour; sandwiches paused halfway towards mouths; people pointed, exclaimed, and swore.

  It was true. Professor Mallahide was as good as his word. The BT Tower was disappearing.

  All over the building’s entire surface area, incalculable numbers of tiny machines set busily to work, taking apart every nanometre of concrete, steel, and whatever else they came across and reducing it to its constituent atoms. These they then reassembled, copying their own designs exactly, adding to the expanding swarm. It happened fast – the whole process took just less than three minutes. It also happened very quietly – a silence nearly perfect except for a faint sizzling sound. All 189 metres of the tower seemed to shrink inwards on itself, the column becoming narrower and narrower . . . until finally, shivering, it dissolved completely.

  The Mallahide swarm scattered, hazing outwards again. This was so everyone watching could see what was left of the tower. And what was left? Nothing. Even the foundations were gone. All that was left of the BT Tower was a hole in the ground.

  ‘Did you see that?’ said Chris, unable to stop himself from grinning in what was probably a very uncool way. ‘That guy dissolved the tower! The whole thing! Zoosh!’

  Anna and the three men from the government looked at him. Chris couldn’t help noticing that they weren’t laughing or even smiling, come to that – so he recovered himself.

  ‘I mean,’ he said, ‘sure, it was a little fake-looking, a bit too obviously computer-generated for my liking. But a nice little scene, I thought.’

  No one answered.

  ‘What’s the name of the show?’ Chris asked blithely. ‘What channel’s it on? Maybe I’ll catch it next time it’s on. I like it when they trash famous places.’

  ‘It’s on all the channels,’ said one of the government men. ‘Though not the terrestrial ones, obviously. Those got fried when the tower went,’ he added pointedly.

  Chris blinked. ‘Wait a second. You don’t mean . . .?’

  ‘He means it’s not a show, Chris,’ said Anna quietly. ‘My father did that to the tower. And that . . .’ She took a breath. ‘That cloud is what he’s become.’

  Chris suddenly noticed Anna looked like she was about to cry. But—

  ‘You’d better come with us, miss,’ said one of the government men. ‘For your own protection.’

  Anna looked up at the men.

  Chris watched her shining eyes take on a concentrated look.

  ‘Come on, miss,’ said another of the black-clad men. ‘There’s no time to lose. He could be on his way here right now.’

  ‘Where will you take me?’ asked Anna.

  ‘Somewhere safe,’ said another of the men, reaching for Anna’s arm.

  ‘No,’ said Anna, taking a step back. ‘Hang on: no. At any rate, you’ll have to give me a better answer than that.’

  The man pursed his lips. ‘You’ll be taken to a secure location,’ he told her. ‘Underground. One of the bunker complexes most likely: they’re the safest places we’ve got. But you’ll understand I can’t tell you exactly where you’ll be going, for security reasons.’

  ‘We’ll protect you, miss,’ said another of the men. ‘We’ll keep you safe until we work out what to do about . . .’ He trailed off.

&nbs
p; ‘About the, er, current situation,’ said the first.

  ‘But you have to come with us,’ said the third. ‘Right now.’

  Anna just stood there, considering for a moment. Her tears were gone. She was thinking clearly now.

  ‘You know what?’ she said. ‘I don’t think you’re here to “protect” me at all. Not really.’

  Chris looked at her.

  ‘Your bosses want me,’ Anna went on, ‘because . . . yes, that’s it: because I might be the only hold you’ve got over my father!’

  ‘Miss, we don’t have time for this,’ said the leader of the black-clad men. ‘You’re in danger—’

  ‘From my own dad?’

  ‘And you have to come with us right now.’ The man took hold of her arm, and the other two stepped forward to surround her.

  ‘Get your hands off me!’ said Anna.

  ‘Hey!’ said Chris weakly. ‘Wait a second! If she doesn’t want to come with you, then, you know, you can’t force her – right? I mean, you’ve got no right to—’

  But suddenly it seemed no one was taking any notice.

  ‘Get – off me!’ said Anna, struggling to escape, but the two government men on either side of her held her in an iron grip, and now they were heading towards the door.

  Chris sat up on the bed, but—

  ‘Stay where you are,’ said the third government man. Unfolding his tree-trunk-like arms, he took a step closer towards where Chris was lying. ‘Just keep out of this, all right? It doesn’t concern you.’

  ‘But,’ Chris spluttered, ‘you can’t—’

  ‘Yes, we can,’ said the man. ‘And don’t try and stop us.’

  Chris thought about this.

  ‘Fine . . .’ he said.

  ‘Chris!’said Anna. ‘Help me!’

  ‘You asked for it.’ An idea had occurred to him: Chris reached up to the wall behind the bed – and he hit the fire alarm.

  The noise rang out, a hideous jangling din. But bad as it was, the sound of the alarm was immediately challenged by another noise, the sudden racket of a school full of kids who’ve just realized they’re going to be let off at least a good half an hour’s worth of lessons. The passageways were instantly packed with bodies. The air was filled with the vain shouts of teachers asking everyone to ‘leave in an orderly fashion’ and the total pandemonium as nobody took the blindest bit of notice.

  ‘Now,’ said Chris. He crossed his arms over his chest, enjoying the moment. ‘You’ve got a bit of a problem, haven’t you? I don’t think you people are going to be able to take Miss Mallahide anywhere she doesn’t want to go – not without the whole school out there watching you lot putting your paws on her. So why don’t we all just discuss this a little bit further?’

  The three men exchanged a look. Then the two who had been manhandling Anna abruptly released her.

  Chris beamed. With just one slick move he’d rescued Anna from three burly government goons. Result! He felt enormously pleased with himself.

  ‘Miss Mallahide,’ said the first MI6 man over the continuing din from outside, ‘I really do think you’re in considerable danger here. Honestly, you’ll be much safer with us.’

  ‘Nope,’ said Anna, coming over to stand next to her rescuer (which made Chris feel even better). ‘Sorry. No way.’

  ‘Seems we’ve got a standoff,’ said Chris cheerfully. ‘So . . . what’s next? The head’ll be wanting to know who set the alarm off, so I wouldn’t take too long to decide if I was you.’

  The first MI6 man gritted his teeth.

  ‘All right,’ he said. He looked at Anna. ‘Here’s a deal for you, Miss Mallahide. If this’ – grimacing, he indicated Chris – ‘young gentleman accompanies us, will you agree to come with us willingly, without struggling?’

  ‘Now that your father’s gone public, you’re going to be something of a celebrity, miss,’ another MI6 man put in. ‘If you won’t let us protect you from your father, at the very least you’ll be needing some protection from the press.’

  Anna considered this.

  Hang on, Chris thought, his smile faltering as he watched. This wasn’t part of the plan! He’d done his bit: now the goons were supposed to leave with their tails between their legs, not—

  ‘Do we have your word we won’t be mistreated?’ Anna asked.

  ‘You have our promise,’ said the first.

  Anna turned to Chris and smiled. ‘Well, partner?’ she asked. ‘What do you say?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Er . . .’ Chris managed back. Then, ‘I mean . . . yeah, sure, I guess.’ He shrugged, trying to look as casual as he could. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Very well, then,’ said the MI6 man. ‘Get your coat, young man. You’re coming on a little adventure.’

  THE DEFENDER

  ‘. . . SO THAT’S HOW it works,’ the Kraken was saying. ‘We’re a little like the planet’s immune system. When an organism’s bloodstream senses disease, it reacts, producing antibodies to fight the infection, right? Well, every few million years, when the planet senses a threat, it reacts too, producing us.’

  ‘Um . . . can I ask you something?’ said Tim.

  ‘Anything,’ said the Kraken.

  ‘How do you know all this stuff?’

  ‘What stuff?’

  ‘The stuff you’ve been telling me, about the world and its . . . “moon system”?’

  ‘Immune system,’ the Kraken corrected him.

  ‘How do you know about all of it?’ Tim repeated. ‘Do you travel around a lot? Did somebody tell you about it? Or what?’

  ‘Nobody told me,’ said the Kraken patiently. ‘And no: I don’t move around much these days. The fact is, I just know.’

  ‘But how?’

  ‘Because,’ said the Kraken, ‘a long time ago, someone did to me what I’m about to do to you now.’

  ‘Did what?’ asked Tim.

  ‘Did this,’ said the Kraken –

  – and grabbed him again. Before Tim even had time to register what was happening, six more of the Kraken’s powerful tentacles shot out and wrapped around him, sealing him up tight in a complex knot of wriggling, pink, sucker-covered squid flesh.

  Tim was bound almost completely, from the crown of his head to the tip of his tail. His eyes were covered; his mouth was covered; he couldn’t even move enough to struggle. Only the stubby spines on Tim’s forehead were exposed: everywhere else on his body was cocooned in the Kraken’s coils.

  ‘What—? What are you doing?’ asked Tim.

  ‘Don’t fight me,’ he heard the Kraken whisper in his mind. ‘Trust me.’

  Tim’s head seemed to fill with the gently pulsating patterns that he’d seen on the Kraken’s body.

  ‘Calm,’ the Kraken’s voice told him. ‘That’s it. Let yourself relax . . .’

  Almost without realizing he was doing it, Tim found he’d gone limp and floppy in the Kraken’s grasp.

  ‘Yes,’ said the Kraken. ‘Be passive. Be still. It’s time to receive your gift.’

  Inside Tim’s mind the pulsating patterns were lulling him into a feeling of warmth and serenity. The Kraken’s tentacles blocked out all external sensation: for Tim, there was no touch, no sound and no sight – so he didn’t see what the Kraken did next. Another tentacle, one the Kraken hadn’t used yet, was snaking out of the surrounding darkness towards the exposed spot on Tim’s forehead.

  The Kraken’s gigantic baleful eye narrowed for a moment as the ancient creature prepared itself for what it was about to do. Closer came the last tentacle. Closer still.

  ‘Calm,’ the Kraken told Tim. ‘Calm. Calm.’ Caressingly, the tentacle draped itself over Tim’s skull.

  Now. The suckers latched onto him, their secretions instantly permeating Tim’s scaly skin –

  – and Tim’s entire body went rigid.

  Soundlessly, helplessly, Tim screamed. Everything was on fire. Everything was burning, freezing, jolting, sizzling with a pain that arced through every nerve and every fibre of
his whole being. It was like his mind was being . . . stretched. Something was pulling at it, pulling it away from its foundations. He felt a tearing, wrenching, splitting sensation—

  Then suddenly his consciousness seemed to break away from his body! A kind of hideous, bottomless, lurching vertigo took hold of him as his mind broke free, plummeting away endlessly into the surrounding cold watery darkness. WHERE AM I? he wanted to scream. WHAT’S HAPPENING? WHATARE YOU DOING TO ME? But as loud as he wanted to scream, nothing came out. There was only the panic and the endless falling. For minutes-hours-days-weeks-months-years-centuries he fell, helplessly, rigid with fear. There was nothing but darkness all around him. Soundlessly Tim howled and shrieked out his terror, and just when he thought the darkness would go on for ever, just when he thought he was lost for good—

  He saw something.

  It was nothing more than a speck at first: he couldn’t be sure if he wasn’t just imagining it, but—

  Yes! There, far away, was something like a tiny spark of light. Reaching out with his mind, Tim went towards the spark, willing it to grow bigger, anything to stop the plummeting empty feeling of the darkness around it, and yes—

  Yes, it was getting bigger. It was taking shape now. It was . . . a ball. A globe, in fact, hanging there in the dark.

  Tim could see now that its surface was rippling and shivering. Clouds of poisonous gases howled across the globe’s surface, becoming shuddering rivers of sparkling red magma that coiled and darkened and clumped as they formed into masses and began to cool. Now the remaining gases were changing colour, becoming a blanket of white, then grey, then a heavy bruise-black before, finally swollen beyond endurance, the clouds abruptly dumped their condensing contents out onto the globe’s new surface. The globe turned blue: a strange round blob of brilliant blue suspended in the endless night.

  Tim saw the world, in every detail at once.

  He saw the seas form their shapes and the continents slithering over them into their positions. He saw the vast tracts of land, barren at first, but then suddenly teeming with life. Billions of years were passing on the planet’s surface and Tim watched it all, watched the different forms (plants, reptiles, insects, mammals) rising and evolving and struggling for dominance. And all the time the pretty blue blob just hung there, spinning, surrounded by darkness.